


The Winchester Breakfast Special

by thefandomsinhalor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bookstore Employee Castiel (Supernatural), Breakfast, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Roommates, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020 (Supernatural), Flirting, Grinding, Helpful Castiel (Supernatural), Injured Dean Winchester, Licking, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Past Castiel/Hannah (Supernatural), Pining, Pizza, Slow Burn, Television Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefandomsinhalor/pseuds/thefandomsinhalor
Summary: Watching Dean cook breakfast after a long night of steamy passion is something Castiel gets to witness on nearly every Sunday morning.The only problem is that the meal in question is never cooked for him.Because he’s never the one spending the night with Dean.He’s just the roommate.Which is something he’d like to change very much.But believing that his feelings will eventually run their course (and that Dean isn’t interested, anyway), Castiel plans to silently endure the smudge of awkwardness he’s left to experience in order to not complicate things.When Dean injures his shoulder and finds himself in need of Castiel’s help, however, Castiel realizes that it will be easier said than done.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 112
Kudos: 523
Collections: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Chapter One: Sunday Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for Dean/Cas Reverse Big Bang! I absolutely adored working on this challenge.  
> Thank you destiel-love-forever for her awesome [art piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187655) that inspired this fic. You were incredibly helpful, not to mention super nice to let me run with it!  
> A massive round of applause to my wonderful betas [Danica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danica_Dust/pseuds/Danica_Dust/works) and Landrala  
> And the mods of dcrb, who were all amazing, thank you for putting this together :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy my first roommate AU.  
> Here is the link to destiel-love-forever's art post!

As it was usually the case on Sunday mornings, Castiel was woken up by some clatter caused by Dean in the kitchen.

Knowing it could only mean one thing, Castiel, trying to not feel too annoyed, grouchily pushed off his covers with his feet. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to witness. He then sighed deeply, slid off the bed, and wrapped himself in his housecoat before stepping outside his bedroom.

With the bright sun coming through the wall of windows directly to Castiel’s left, the living room area, the dining room, and most of the kitchen, which were all in one big open space, were illuminated and warm.

The living room, which was situated right next to Castiel’s bedroom, consisted of a cozy leather couch and one armchair, facing a decent-sized television with slim bookshelves on either side of it. The kitchen and the living room were divided by a wooden rectangular-shaped table that lay right underneath an industrial chandelier.

And as for the kitchen, it was spread along the wall adjacent the large windows, with charcoal cupboards and yellow tiles on the wall, a stainless-steel fridge at the other end, and a deep sink and Viking oven in the middle.

Which was where, just as he had suspected, that Dean was overseeing something sizzling on the stove—eggs, no doubt—while the coffee machine was brewing loudly.

What was surprising on that particular morning, however, was Dean’s attire.

While finding a semi-awake Dean sipping on his coffee, still in his plaid pajama pants and rock band t-shirt, was not utterly uncommon during weekday mornings, Castiel typically found him fully dressed for the day, even on his lazy weekend mornings.

However, as Castiel slowly made his way towards the kitchen, it became clear rather quickly that this was not the case on that specific Sunday morning.

Dean was wearing nothing but tight black briefs.

Calvin Klein ones, by the looks of it.

The first thing that came to Castiel’s mind, for some stupid reason, was the movie _Back to the Future_.

But as his eyes lingered on the shape and curves of Dean’s butt, his strong shoulders and legs, his mind wandered to thoughts other than Marty McFly rather quickly.

All he could do was helplessly gape at him.

That was when Dean, sensing his presence, turned around and met his eyes.

And Castiel had to fight the urge to lower his eyes.

Under any circumstances.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” he said with a cocky smile.

“Morning, Dean.”

“Ah shit. I woke you up, didn’t I? Sorry, I didn’t think I was that loud. Got coffee for you, if you want?”

“No apologies needed,” Castiel assured him. “And that would be great, thank you.” He sat down at the table, while Dean dropped the coffee pot and Castiel's favourite "Bee Happy" yellow mug in front of him, before returning to his eggs.

Which were, indeed, _eggs_ , noticed Castiel.

Scrambled, it seemed.

“So? How was your night? Sleep well?”

“Well enough,” said Castiel. And even though he already knew the answer, given Dean’s attire and the breakfast in question, he asked, “And you? What time did you get back? I didn’t hear anything.”

“Pretty good, too.”

Castiel nodded at his short answer as he poured himself a generous cup of coffee.

“And what about the rest of your week?” continued Dean. “I barely caught sight of you.”

“I know what you mean. It’s the schedule.”

Dean left his eggs for a moment, and leaning on the counter, he took a sip of his coffee as he watched Castiel.

“Yeah, I meant to ask about that. Before, I figured it was the holiday hours. It was crazy on my end too. But we’re in February now, and not that I’m keeping tabs or anything, but am I crazy or do I see you even less than before?”

Castiel took his time swallowing his sip of coffee. “Um, no. It’s not you. A few weeks ago, we actually changed managers at the store and some of my co-workers are university students, which means that their schedules also changed since the beginning of the new semester. All this brought a bit of a delayed adjustment because—anyway, long story short, I work most evenings during the week now. And half a shift in the afternoon on Friday and Sunday. It was the only way to not have my hours cut in half.”

Dean nodded as he processed what Castiel had just told him. “Okay, that makes sense, I guess. It kinda sucks, but it makes sense. It’s certainly better than what I thought anyway.”

“And what’s that?”

Dean turned the burner off and put the pan aside. Grabbing some condiments, he then laid them on the table, along with utensils and two plates. One in front of Castiel and another in the spot facing him.

“Just—I was beginning to think you were enjoying a little something on the side. Because, you know, that’s totally your style. You, being such a troublemaker and all.”

And although Castiel knew he was only teasing him, as Dean often did, there had been something in his tone that had made Castiel wonder if he wasn’t saying this as lightly as he wished him to believe.

Which Castiel thought was extremely curious.

But before he questioned him about it, Dean began emptying the pan onto Castiel’s plate.

“Dean, wait—I don’t—only if you have enough.”

Dean snorted. “Don’t be silly. Of course, I have enough,” he said, giving Castiel a generous portion. “I made sure there would be some for you, too.”

“Thank you,” he said, watching Dean fill his own plate.

“And what about me?” asked a voice to his right.

A woman with long brown hair, and wearing a red cocktail dress, was now standing by the table.

“Hey! Morning!” said Dean.

“Morning.”

She reached Dean’s side, and after exchanging warm looks, during which Castiel tried his best to focus all his attention on his plate, Dean said, “Of course, there’s some for you.” He then grabbed a third plate, filled it with the rest of the scrambled eggs, and laid it next to his own plate. “I was just about to make toast too. Sounds good?” he asked her. “And there’s a mug for you if you feel like coffee.”

“Perfect.” She then turned to Castiel and asked amicably, “And who is this?”

“Tina, this is Cas. My roommate. Cas, this is Tina.”

“Oh. Hi!”

“Hello.”

Dean pulled the chair for her and started heading towards the short hallway, leading to the bathroom and his bedroom. “Sit. Eat. And I’ll be back in sec. I, um, just realized I’m massively underdressed,”

“That just occurred to you, huh?” asked Tina, smirking at him while pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Dean teasingly squinted at her and hurried out of the kitchen.

Leaving Castiel and Tina alone for a moment.

With a slight awkward vibe hovering in the air.

It was typically around this time that Castiel was hit with a profound desire to casually retire to his room, so as to leave Dean and his guest alone.

Even if he knew it would most likely render the situation even more awkward.

Wanting to avoid that outcome, and also remembering that Dean had always managed to convince him to stay on the few instances that Castiel had been caught making a run for it, he knew staying put was his only option.

Thus, he reluctantly remained seated and told himself to enjoy his breakfast and the company. After all, Sunday breakfasts were the only occasion Dean and Castiel could actually catch up with each other.

Which, so far, almost exclusively happened with Dean’s one-night stands present.

Unfortunately.

“So, Cas. How long have you and Dean been roommates?”

“Not long. A few months.”

“Really? Huh. And was this your place before or Dean’s? Or did you pick this place together?”

“No, it was Dean’s.”

“Cool. Looks like you lucked out. And, um…” Staring at her plate, she twisted her fork in her hands. “It’s just—Cas? Can I ask you a question? Not that I want to put you on the spot, but I’m just curious about something.”

He was slightly uncomfortable, but he asked, “What’s that?”

She pursed her lips, pondering on how to formulate her question. She took a big bite of her toast and finally said, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but, um, in the few months you’ve known Dean, did he ever—I mean—Dean mentioned that he prefers things casual—a one-time thing. Which I’m totally on board with, but, um, I was wondering if it ever happened that people were, like, ever granted a second visit? Or more than that? I’m only asking because…I’m slightly confused here,” she said, pointing at her plate. “Dean’s actually nice and since you’re his roommate, I figured you would know if I’m barking up the wrong tree. And just to level with you, I’m cool with the answer no matter what. I just thought…” she stopped herself, let out a deep sigh, and stared at him.

Waiting for his answer.

Castiel shifted on his seat, unsure how to handle the situation.

Involving himself was the last thing he wanted and he firmly believed this question should have been aimed at Dean instead of him.

But he also understood why she was asking.

And after a quick glance at Dean’s bedroom door, he gave her his most truthful answer. “Dean likes to keep things simple. There have been exceptions,” _one_ , as far as Castiel knew, “but it still qualified as casual. That being said, I’ve only known him since I moved here, a few months ago. I don’t really know much about Dean and—”

“But you live together.”

“And I still don’t know much about him,” repeated Castiel. “So, what I’ve witnessed so far might not mean anything. I am certain, however, that if you ask him directly he will be upfront about it.”

She turned her gaze to the side, assessing what he had told her. She didn’t appear shocked or disappointed.

She then picked up her other piece of toast. “Thank you. That’s what I gathered, but I was just curious.”

“Curious about what?” asked Dean, coming out of his bedroom.

Castiel momentarily panicked, worried that Dean might have heard their conversation. But as he advanced towards them, now fully dressed with jeans and a plaid shirt, he appeared his usual jovial self.

“I was just being nosy,” said Tina. “I asked Castiel how you two became roommates. He mentioned you guys didn’t know each other before.”

“There’s not much to tell,” admitted Dean. He took his seat next to Tina and began eating. “I put an ad out and Cas answered it. The end.”

Tina lifted an eyebrow and shot a look at Castiel, as though she was requesting a confirmation.

“It is what happened.”

“Thrilling, right?” said Dean.

“Hmm. Somehow I feel like that’s a waste of potential for a good story.”

“Well, maybe the follow up won’t be,” joked Dean.

Although Dean hadn’t lied, it was in Castiel’s opinion that there had been a bit _more_ to the story than that.

Of course, that was probably because it was involving _his_ side of the narrative, of which Dean was still in the dark about certain details. A fact that Castiel was in no hurry to remedy.

So, he kindly nodded and continued eating in silence.

Soon enough, breakfast ended, and just before leaving for his job, he got to partially witness Dean and Tina’s goodbye, as she thanked him for breakfast.

Among other things.

And Castiel, despite his best attempt, could not help but feel his heart grow heavy at the simple wish that, for once, he wouldn’t have to watch this scene on every Sunday morning.

But that was nothing when compared to his deep desire that, one day, Dean would be cooking his usual you-spent-the-night breakfast for him.

And _only_ him.

Which, for many reasons, was obviously a problem for Castiel.

When Castiel’s (at the time) girlfriend, Hannah, had left the city of Chicago near the end of summer in order attend grad school in another state, Castiel had known he would eventually find himself in need of a new place to stay. At first, he had attempted to carry the load by himself, wishing to hold on to a place symbolizing their life together, but without Hannah paying her half, money quickly became a problem. Even more than usual. And although he had contemplated the idea of getting a roommate instead of moving, after discussing it with her, he had chosen to take this opportunity to seek a better place to live that was closer to his job.

His options hadn’t been very inspiring, until he had come across a flyer at his work, advertising that someone in the neighborhood was in need of a roommate. Always somewhat suspicious of random (and unknown) ads, Castiel had nonetheless called the number.

And he had been very glad that he had done so.

Despite the apartment being situated above a small pizza joint, _Donatello’s Pizza and Wings_ , which hadn’t been overly promising, Castiel had been pleasantly surprised by the apartment. It was far more spacious and modern than his current place, and he could have his own parking space and access to a storage room in the basement, with no additional fee.

What had convinced Castiel to accept, however, had been Dean. He had been very accommodating to show him the apartment, not to mention kind and polite, with a genuine good vibe attached to him.

It hadn’t been without Castiel’s notice that he was also extremely charming. Perhaps, almost _too_ charming.

And while Castiel had been worried for a short second that it might spell trouble down the line, he had decided to trust his initial impression of Dean’s good nature and went along with the move.

And for the most part, everything had gone smoothly.

Until his worry became reality.

It had started simple. Small. How could it had not, as they only had brief encounters. Almost like admiring someone from afar. Positive his attraction to Dean would dissipate, Castiel had ignored it and had filed it under moments of stupidity. Loneliness at work. Completely natural and nothing too bothersome.

But his interest soon became undeniable, and this, well before his break-up with Hannah, and when that had occurred, the next thing he knew, despite his best efforts, Castiel was completely infatuated with him.

And even though he would have been perfectly within his rights to do something about said infatuation, such as admitting his feelings to Dean, for starters, Castiel did no such thing.

He did not wish to jeopardize his housing situation, nor his relationship with Dean.

After all, Dean wasn’t a total slob, he was fair in sharing the living space, and he was genuinely nice and fun to live with.

So, no. He concluded that keeping quiet was his best option.

Besides, given Dean’s non-committal status and the fact that their schedules conflicted so much, they barely saw one another, which made Castiel’s life easier.

His only problem was the weekend. 

He had come to dread the weekends when he began to notice that Dean liked to cook breakfast for his _guests_ in the morning. Which Castiel thought was interesting as it was the only time Dean ever cooked breakfast. Lunches, snacks, or dinners? Sure. But breakfast? A strong black coffee was usually the way to start the day for Dean.

Every day.

Except for Sunday, when he had had company the night before.

And it was always eggs. But not always cooked in the same way, which, at first, Castiel didn’t think much of that variant.

With time though, he understood that it was actually a big indication of how Dean’s night had gone. Sunny side up with toast was usually the norm and Dean would be relatively cheerful for the rest of the day (as far as Castiel knew), and definitely back to normal by the next morning, letting out his Monday morning grunts.

Scrambled eggs with fruits were the next level. Not rare, but not typical either, and usually excused him from the previously mentioned Monday morning sighs.

An omelette with cheese and vegetables (whichever kind Dean could find in the fridge) was rare, but also, probably the highest. The last time Dean had made an omelette, his so-called blissful state lasted for days and he hadn’t even complained when he had realized on Tuesday morning that they were out of coffee beans.

Which was a big issue when he was in need of his morning coffee fix right before going to work.

Of course, for all Castiel knew, these variations could simply be due to the requests of Dean’s guests.

And yet, he didn’t really think that was the case when he considered the times when Dean’s guests had not been offered breakfast (or barely coffee). The quick goodbyes had always been awkward and Dean, though still in somewhat good humor, had not worn his usual Sunday morning grin.

And that wasn’t even counting the times when people hadn’t even bothered waiting until morning before leaving.

But to return to the matter at hand, Castiel tried his best to keep his discomfort to himself, as he argued that it was a very small price to pay for the housing and company. He had no doubt his attraction for Dean would eventually lessen, a notion he repeated to himself nearly every day, when he caught himself fantasizing of what might happen when he would show up at the apartment later at night.

On the following Friday night, which happened to be Valentine’s Day, Castiel arrived at his apartment, looking forward to spending a quiet night in after a long day on his feet. Just as he had expected, he found the place empty.

With no Dean in sight.

And a note waiting for him.

_Hey! Sorry I missed you yesterday. Something came up. Just letting you know I won’t make it back until very late tonight. So, don’t wait up._

_Dean_

Castiel had to let out a laugh. He wasn’t sure why, but not long after he had moved in, Dean had gained the habit of leaving a note for him on Friday nights to inform him he had gone out. He always made it sound as if it was a last-minute decision, almost as though they had made plans or something, and always specifically on Friday night. Even if Dean went out on Saturday or Sunday—whenever he felt like it, really—which he did, the note was solely waiting for Castiel on Friday nights.

He stared at it for a brief moment, nearly wondering if it held a coded message, and then put it aside, ready to unwind in the comfort of his home.

He popped some leftovers into the oven, took a quick shower, changed himself into cozy attire, and dropped on the couch with his warm meal ready to be devoured.

Not long after that, he received a picture in his group chat he shared with his friends, Balthazar and Gabriel. Eager to have news from them, as he hadn’t seen them in months, Castiel rejoiced at the sight of the picture in question, which depicted Gabriel next to a seemingly never-ending display of chocolate.

Chuckling, Castiel couldn’t wait to hear the story behind this.

Gabriel: So, it’s pretty late here. And since I’m on my way to an after party, where I am planning on getting massively drunk, I figured I could share this and say hello while I can still type properly.

Balthazar: What’s with the picture, Willy Wonka?

Gabriel: Funny you should ask.

Gabriel: I went to a chocolate factory today.

Gabriel: I asked when I could move in.

Castiel: I’m impressed you asked.

Gabriel: That was plan A. Plan B, tomorrow.

Balthazar: Switzerland is making you all proper. And here I thought it would have had the opposite effect.

Gabriel: Thanks.

Gabriel: What about you guys? What are you up to?

Gabriel: B? You’re either somewhere far too distinguished for my taste or somewhere so decadent it would literally render me speechless.

Gabriel: Which is saying something.

Gabriel: But it’s always one or the other with you.

Balthazar: I’m sipping champagne on a balcony.

Balthazar: With a friend I made last night.

Castiel: Last night?

Gabriel: Waiiiit. A whole day passed and you’re still with them?

Castiel: Oh, no, Gabe. I just realized

Castiel: You’re still in Australia, right?

Balthazar: Correct.

Castiel: So, his “last night” is our night right now. Ish.

Castiel: Well, yours is almost done, Gabe lol.

Balthazar: And that means yours is only beginning, Cassie.

Gabriel: Is that so?

Gabriel: Hmmm.

Balthazar: Care to tell us what you are up to this evening?

Gabriel: I’d like to know as well.

Gabriel: Because I know B and I aren’t home…and that makes telling you what to do very complicated.

Castiel: But…

Gabriel: But take this as a kind reminder to not get too comfy.

Balthazar: In other words, you bloody not be moping around in your apartment.

Castiel: I am not moping.

Gabriel: So you went out? Hook up? Party? Hot date at an overpriced restaurant? 

Castiel: Does a date at home counts?

Balthazar: I’m gonna need visual proof.

Castiel, knowing full well it would only aggravate them, nonetheless sent them a picture of a thick classic book, his slippers, and the television remote control, all laid out on his coffee table, next to his still steaming cup of tea.

Gabriel: Ya know, I knew you were gonna do this to us, but I still hoped for one dumbass second that you wouldn’t be that asshole.

Balthazar: Bloody hell, mate.

Balthazar: Is this a cry for help?

Castiel: I assure you, it’s not. I’m perfectly fine.

Balthazar: Cassie, get off your couch. Get out that door. And don’t come back until you found a nice someone to share your evening with.

Balthazar: And I hope for your sake that it will involve none of what I’m seeing right now.

Castiel: What was that about you not telling me what to do?

Gabriel: Ugh.

Gabriel: Where’s your roommate?

Castiel: Wherever he usually goes on Friday, I suppose.

Castiel: Why?

Gabriel: As you told us that he knows where the action is…

Balthazar: Do yourself a favor. Next time, follow him.

Gabriel: Maybe that way, you’ll both be bringing back someone.

Castiel pursed his lips, as he doubted very much that this would be helpful.

Castiel: Actually, Dean rarely comes back home on Friday. That’s Saturday.

Balthazar: Gabe, is he fucking with us?

Gabriel: Think so, yes.

Gabriel: Doesn’t matter when, Cas. JUST GO.

Balthazar: We don’t want you hiding in and being depressed.

Castiel: I appreciate the sentiment, but I AM FINE.

Castiel: Stop worrying.

Balthazar: I barely heard anything from you since you broke up with Hannah and that was well over a month ago.

Gabriel: Even before that, you weren’t really chatty.

Castiel: That’s because I had nothing to say!

Castiel: There was nothing to say.

Balthazar: Look, we know we suck. It wasn’t planned, but we still both happen to leave the freaking country (indefinitely) right before she announced that she was going to Duke instead. Leaving you on your own.

Castiel: Um, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not four.

Castiel: And as you can see, I managed to keep breathing.

Balthazar: I didn’t doubt that, Cassie. It’s just, we know you.

Gabriel: We get that you want to take things slow after everything, but just promise us that you won’t lock yourself up in your apartment forever?

Castiel: Of course, I won’t.

Castiel: I’m just not feeling it right now.

Castiel: I’ll try to write more, but I’m telling you, it’s all boring on my end.

Gabriel: Perfect. We like boring. So, keep us posted.

Gabriel: Now, I’ve arrived at my destination. I have no idea what I’m drinking. Balthazar, start talking while I still know who you are.

Thus, after hearing all about Balthazar’s depraved (and entertaining) evening, Castiel wished his friends goodnight (and good afternoon), especially when Gabriel was hilariously becoming less coherent, and returned to his quiet evening at home.

Which he enjoyed very much. He caught up on his shows while he made himself a small honey cheesecake, a recipe raved upon by one of his co-workers, deservedly so, as it turned out. He did his usual five-minute bedtime yoga routine, and finally turned in comfortably in his warm bed, reading the classic book he had begun at the beginning of the week.

He finally put the book away once he realized that he had told himself “One more chapter” for the fourth time in a row, turned off the light and settled himself for the night.

A few hours later, when he was in the middle of a nice dream involving sunshine and a beach, he was woken up by his phone ringing.

Confused, he grabbed it to see who on earth could be calling him in the dead of night.

No surprise, it was an unknown number. He simply declined the call, dropped the phone and turned on his side, ready to go back to his dream.

But the phone rang again. Sighing deeply, Castiel answered it this time. “Yes?” he asked in a raspy voice, keeping his eyes shut.

“Oh, hello? Hi! Is this Castiel? Castiel Novak?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God. I wasn’t sure. I’m so sorry to wake you up at this hour. I’m Sam. Sam Winchester. Dean’s brother.”

Castiel snapped his eyes open. He sat up straight in his bed as he noticed the urgency in Sam’s tone.

“Hello, Sam. What’s happening?”

“Um, okay. I—don’t panic, everything is okay, but Dean’s at the hospital.”

“What?” Castiel jumped out of bed and immediately began pacing around it, as though it would aid him in fixing this problem. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“Yes. He is. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but all I know is that he dislocated his shoulder and was transported to the hospital. Look, I—like I said before, I’m so sorry to call you. But I’m his emergency contact, which is why I know about it. Normally, I’d already be there, but I’m actually out of town and because of the weather, the roads are closed and will apparently remain so until tomorrow morning. And with Charlie being out of the country until Wednesday… if it’s impossible for you at the moment, there are a few other people I could call, but since you live with him, I figured I should try you first. I just—Dean is so stubborn. He won’t call anyone and I’m sure he’ll do something stupid like trying to get back to his car. I simply want to know he made it back home safely when he’s discharged, and I—I know it’s late,” he repeated. “And I understand if you can’t—”

“Which hospital was he brought to? And what do I need to bring?” asked Castiel, already dressed with his car keys in hand.


	2. Chapter Two: An Emergency Visit

The emergency room of Northwestern Memorial Hospital was extremely busy when Castiel burst through the doors. Following Sam’s instructions and aided by a clerk, he managed to find Dean resting on a bed with his left arm in a sling.

Looking quite mellow.

With a dopey smile on his face.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean lifted his head to get a proper look at who was addressing him. The instant he set eyes on him, he tittered and lifted his free arm to wave eagerly at Castiel.

“Cas! You’re here! Yay!” But then his entire expression changed. “Wait. How—what are you doing here? This is the hospital. Did something happen to you?”

“No, Dean. I’m fine. I’m here because you are. I came here to see you.”

“What? But—URGH!” he yelled as he let his head drop onto his pillow, which made him wince. “Sammy lied to me and called you, right?”

“He was worried and so was I when I heard. I’m glad he called me.” Castiel stepped closer to the bed as he took off his scarf.

“You are?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” And Dean rested his eyes for a few seconds, seemingly tired. Now, closer to him, Castiel got the chance to examine him more thoroughly. He was a bit banged up, but besides his left arm in the sling, he had no discernible wounds. Not even cuts or bruises. A few scrapes and redness on his temple and fingers, but that was it.

Dean’s moment of respite ended abruptly when alarms went on not far from where they were, causing him to snap his eyes open. His gaze shifted around and finally stopped on Castiel, who was smiling at him.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“I’m pretty fine, Cas,” he giggled. “And I hurt my shoulder.”

“Dislocated it, as I understand. What happened?”

“There was a fire.”

“What?” said Castiel, now confused. “What do you—where?”

“At that Thai place. The one near my work. They are open super late, which is awesome. Anyway, I thought I needed a break so I went for food. I didn’t want the delivery guy to judge me because I was ordering in _tonight_ , so I went to the restaurant instead…which now seems like an even worse idea, obviously—”

While Dean had managed to pronounce every word of that sentence, Castiel couldn’t help but notice that he had struggled on a few words.

He was also puzzled about certain details of his story.

“You were at work? Why? I thought you said you went out?”

“THEN,” continued Dean dramatically, unfazed by Castiel’s questions, “I was waiting for my order and a bunch of people started screaming. The next thing I knew, smoke came out of nowhere, and _then_ the alarm went off—sprinklers too. People were running everywhere. And no one got to eat.”

Utterly confused by Dean’s narrative, as this was the first time Castiel heard of a fire, and not to mention that it offered no explanation for his shoulder, he was about to question Dean further, when a beautiful brunette nurse joined them.

“Mr. Winchester! Hello. How are you feeling now? Oh, who do we have here?” she asked once she noticed Castiel’s presence. “Are you the brother?”

“Um, no. I’m the—”

“He’s the boyfriend,” said Dean, cutting him off.

“What—um, no, we’re not—” and feeling somewhat baffled, Castiel froze at the word _boyfriend_ , while Dean, who was apparently finding Castiel’s fumbling comical, started chuckling. Desperate to remain unaffected, Castiel said after clearing his throat, “I’m not his boyfriend.” And then added, to clarify, “I’m the roommate.”

The nurse shot a look at Dean for confirmation. Unfortunately, it appeared that hazy Dean was in the mood for some teasing, so he continued with his pretense.

“Come on, Cas. Don’t be like that.” He then winked at him. “It’s okay. Nurse…”

“Blake.”

“Nurse Blake won’t tell.” He turned to the nurse and added in a sluggish voice, “He’s a bit shy. And he has issues with labels.”

“Gotcha,” said the nurse.

“Dean,” groaned Castiel. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you,” he said with a smile on his face. “Isn’t he something?” He let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “It’s the eyes that got me,” he told the nurse quite convincingly.

“I can see why,” she said, grinning.

“And what about you, Cas? What was it for you?”

Castiel was not amused. He stared down at Dean, pursing his lips.

“I don’t think right now is the appropriate time for this.”

“See. Told you he was shy,” he repeated to Nurse Blake.

“Stop saying that. I’m not shy.”

“Then say it.”

And Dean, smirking and his eyes glued on him, was waiting for his answer. Castiel shifted on his feet and shot a nervous look at the nurse.

And based on her expression and the smile at the corner of her mouth, it was clear that she was equally awaiting his answer.

“Fine. I—I thought your eyes were beautiful too.”

“You can’t say that,” protested Dean. “I already said that.”

“So? It happens to be the truth,” said Castiel, unsure as to why he was insisting on sharing that detail with him.

Nonetheless, Dean, shaking his head, was unsatisfied with his answer. “You have to find something else.”

For half a second, Castiel considered keeping his mouth shut until they were to return home.

But then, he decided that he, too, could play this game. So, he sat at the edge of the bed, making sure to stay clear of Dean’s arm, and said, “You really want to know what it was?”

“Yup.”

“The shape of your lips. More specifically, when you smile.”

Giggling, Dean said, “That’s nice.”

And Castiel rolled his eyes.

Dean was then hit with a bit of fatigue, so he slowly shut his eyes. Since he was resting for a moment, Castiel took the opportunity to ask the nurse some questions.

“May I ask what happened to him? He mentioned a fire but nothing about his shoulder.”

“As far as I understood from the EMTs, your _roommate_ played the hero, wanting to make sure everyone was out safely, and managed to get run down in the commotion.”

Castiel had no idea what his face must have looked like, but he gathered it must have been rather troubling, as Dean, alert again, felt the need to say, “S’okay, Cas. I’m okay. I feel awesome!”

Eyeing Dean’s left arm resting in the sling, Castiel wasn’t too sure about that statement.

Almost as if Dean had read his mind, he said, “That’s nothing. They made a fuss about nothing. Honestly, if it wasn’t because the EMT and the people at the restaurant wanted to make sure I was fine so I wouldn’t sue them, I wouldn’t have even bothered coming here.”

Which reminded Castiel of Sam’s worry concerning Dean’s stubbornness.

And carelessness of his own well-being.

“I see. But since you ended up coming here, want to tell me what they did once you got here?” Shifting his gaze to the nurse, he asked, “How much of a ‘nothing’ was the situation?”

“Well, dislocated shoulders are a bit more complex than simply popping it back in. Sometimes, muscles and ligaments—or even blood vessels—around the shoulder joint can be damaged. And that may require surgery. So, before doing anything, we had to make sure that it wasn’t the case. But it turns out that Mr. Winchester is extremely lucky. No major damage seems to have occurred. So, once the pain medication was in full effect, we lodged his shoulder back into the joint smoothly.”

“So, he’s okay? No need for surgery or—he’s okay?”

“It appears everything is in order. And no surgery will be needed, either.”

Castiel, relieved, nodded frantically. “And, um, what happens now?”

“He will need to rest and wear the sling for the next few days. Earlier we went through directives that he has to follow for the next few weeks, which are all listed in some literature I was going to leave with him before he was discharged.”

“And when will that be?”

“Shouldn’t be too long. We’re just waiting on a few things, including the doctor to give the official okay. Since you’re here though, if you want, I can get the information I was talking about and go over it with you while we wait for the doctor to arrive? That way you’ll know what to expect as well and how to help him at home.”

“Yes, please. I’d appreciate it very much.”

“You gonna take care of me, sweetheart?” Dean asked Castiel.

“Sure thing, honeypie.”

The nurse checked on Dean for a moment, asked him about his pain level, and once everything seemed to be in order, she swiftly left their side and disappeared down the hall.

“How are you feeling, really?” asked Castiel now that they were on their own.

“I’m great, Cas.” And then a mischievous smile formed itself on his lips. “And had I known this was what I had to do to get an evening with you, even in these conditions, I would have done this sooner. _Sweetheart_.”

“Dean,” warned Castiel. “Quit it. Why on earth are you doing this?”

“Because you should see your face,” he said in between giggles. “And you need to lighten up. Stop fretting.” And then, adopting a more serious tone, he added, “I’m okay.”

Despite being mildly aggravated by his teasing, Castiel had to admit that Dean’s mood was at least encouraging, even if he suspected that pain medication had a lot to do with it.

So, he put up with Dean’s jokes and listened with great attention to Nurse Blake’s instructions. And within the hour, just as she had mentioned, Dean was free to go home after the doctor came to check up on him one last time.

The trip home went without complications, with a peaceful Dean who fell asleep in the passenger seat.

The real task, as it turned out, was to help Dean reach their apartment, which was situated on the second-floor of the building.

There was an elevator available for them to use, but rarely did they use it, mainly because it was terrifying. It was minuscule, antiquated, and seemed like it was about to break down at any moment.

Looking at it felt dangerous enough and taking the stairs was a much safer option, no matter what. And this, even if the stairs were situated _outside_ the building.

But tonight, with Dean’s sluggish state and the stairs being slippery, Castiel decided that the elevator, quite surprisingly, would have to do.

It took some convincing, as Dean shared his disdain of the elevator, but he nevertheless caved in to Castiel’s insistence.

And thankfully, they made it to the apartment without any problem.

Because Dean had previously mentioned something about being famished, and this more than once, Castiel began suggesting a few things he could prepare quickly for him. But due to the late hour (and all the excitement of the evening), the moment they set foot into the apartment, it was clear that Dean’s fatigue hit him on the spot and now the only thing he was craving was sleep.

So, without further ado, Castiel guided him to his bedroom, helped him out of his coat and removed his boots. Without warning, Dean pushed his pants down, leaving his underwear on, and aided by Castiel, he lay on his back, happily resting his head on a soft pillow, with the covers pulled up to his chin.

And just like that, Dean went to sleep.

Castiel debated if he should leave him on his own. What if he needed assistance to get out of bed? What if he was hungry? What if he was in pain?

The nurse had given Castiel certain directives concerning Dean’s sleep, which had been explained under the impression that Castiel would be sleeping right next to him. One look at Dean, however, and Castiel was positive he wouldn’t hear anything from him until late in the morning.

Therefore, after weighing in on his options, he settled on sleeping on the couch instead of returning to his own bed, or staying in Dean’s bedroom, which sounded incredibly unethical.

He grabbed a blanket and a couch pillow, took off his boots, and laid down on the couch. At least, this way, if Dean did cry out for help or fall or anything, he would be in a position to hear him better and run to him faster than if he were in his own bedroom. 

He tried to listen carefully, being as alert as he could, but soon, weariness caught up to him as well. His eyelids became heavier and he eventually fell into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter Three: The Brother

The mouth-watering aroma of chili peppers and lime mixed with meat had long reached Castiel’s nose before his eyes snapped open. Gripping the edge of the couch, he sat up abruptly. “Dean, no! You’re not supposed to—” he started saying, but the rest of his sentence died in his throat, when he realized that Dean was not the one cooking.

It was a very tall man with long hair who was standing by the stove. Someone whom Castiel had never met in his life.

Which, all things considered, wasn’t better.

Hearing Castiel’s outburst, the man turned around.

“Hey! Cast—”

“What’s going—where’s Dean? And who are you?”

“Oh, right. Um, sorry. Of course, you don’t—I’m Sam,” he added quickly as Castiel backed away from the couch. “I’m Dean’s brother. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He set the silicon spatula aside and wiped his hands on a cloth.

“You’re Sam?”

Sam had now reached the edge of the living room and was extending his hand in salutation. Castiel remembered Dean mentioning a joke or two regarding Sam’s height, but he had always believed that he was exaggerating. Or, as Dean was prone to, _teasing_.

Be that as it may, as Castiel shook Sam’s hand, it was obvious that this was in no way an overstatement.

“Wow. Can’t believe I finally get to meet you,” he said, studying Castiel.

“Likewise.”

“Every time I came by, you weren’t here. I was starting to think that Dean had made you up.”

“Our schedules haven’t matched up for a while now,” explained Castiel.

“Yeah. That’s what Dean kept mentioning.”

Unsure what to make of Sam’s last comment, given the smirk on his face, Castiel decided to change the subject. “Um, Sam, I—may I ask how did you get into the apartment?”

“I have a spare key in case of emergencies. I called Dean when I got here, but he didn’t answer. I knocked and everything, but still no answer.”

“What? I—I was right here.”

“I saw that,” he said, grinning. “You were totally out. And since I could hear Dean snoring from his bedroom, I figured I should let you guys sleep for a little while.”

Castiel nodded, feeling almost embarrassed they had a visitor and neither he nor Dean had noticed. And then, something else occurred to him. “Wait, what time is it? I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to come back into town until lunch hour?”

“Um, yes. It’s one o’clock.”

“WHAT?” In a moment of panic, believing he was late for work, he stopped breathing and reached for his phone. Once he assessed that it was Saturday, not Sunday, however, he let out a deep breath of relief.

“You okay?” asked Sam.

“Yes. I—I’m sorry. I just—I think I’m not fully awake yet. I can’t believe I slept that late.”

“Dean must have been a handful,” joked Sam.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” He glanced at Dean’s bedroom door. “Do you think he’s okay? Should we go check on him?”

“If his stomach still hasn’t woken him up yet, it’s because he really needs to sleep. Don’t worry, he’ll turn up sooner or later.”

Castiel nodded, reassured by Sam’s reasoning, though he still felt the urge to immediately check for himself.

Sam gestured for Castiel to take a seat at the kitchen table and asked him if he was hungry. “I found a box of taco shells stashed in the top cupboard, and after a quick look at what you guys had in the fridge, I figured I could pull this off.”

Castiel approached the kitchen table, where many plates had been laid out already. He discerned black beans with cherry tomatoes. Guacamole. Eggs and sausages. Shredded mozzarella and cheddar.

And beef sizzling on the stove.

“That looks amazing. It certainly smells amazing. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do. Got coffee, too. And water,” he said, nodding at the glass of water in front of him.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

“No problem, Cas. I just—thank you so much for your help,” he said, handing him a hot cup of coffee. “I know Dean can fend for himself, but it doesn’t mean he _has_ to. And if I leave it up to him, that’s definitely what’s going to happen. So, thank you.”

“No problem. I was glad I could help. And was the mini-update I sent you last night enough? I know I was very short on the details. I figured that keeping it simple would spare me from digressing too much.”

“No, don’t worry about that. All I really wanted to know was that Dean had made it home safely. Which he did and you told me.”

“Told you what?”

Startled, both Sam and Castiel turned abruptly.

Dean, with bed hair, was standing by the fridge. His eyes were adjusting to the brightness of the room and his left arm was still in the sling,

“Dean!” Castiel stood up from his chair and hurried to Dean’s side, while Sam double checked that nothing would burn on the stove, before dashing towards his brother as well.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sleep okay?”

“Are you in pain?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Oh my God. I’m fine,” said Dean, shooing them away. “Jeez. I’m not dying. Stop freaking out.”

“We just—how are you? Really?” 

“Peachy, Sammy.” He opened the door of the freezer and grabbed the reusable gel pack. With difficulty, he then tried to slide it under his shirt, so it would stay in place over his shoulder.

“Here, let me,” said Sam, extending his hand for Dean to relinquish the gel pack.

Dean hesitated for a second, but, sighing, he handed it to Sam.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” said Dean. “I told you I’d be fine yesterday. You didn’t need to come here and ruin your trip with Jess.”

“It wasn’t ruined, Dean.” He delicately tucked the gel pack over his shoulder. “That better?” Dean nodded, with relief spreading over his face. “We simply left a few hours earlier than planned,” continued Sam. “That’s all.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He then glanced around the room as if he was searching for someone else.

“If you’re looking for Jess, she’s not here yet.”

Dean nodded oddly, seemingly glad of this clarification, but not utterly satisfied with the answer.

As though it hadn’t been the silent question he had asked.

Castiel shot a look at Sam who also was observing Dean closely.

“Since we got here earlier than planned,” Sam continued, “she decided to head directly to work and put in the hours right away instead of tonight. That way, if you want, we can spend the evening with you.”

“Cool. Thank you. Totally unnecessary though.”

“Dean—”

“But thanks. Even if I still think you rushed here for no reason at all.” His eyes fell on Castiel for a few seconds and he looked around the room once more.

“Something else the matter?”

“Nope. Why?”

“No reason,” said Sam, exchanging a look with Castiel.

Something was obviously off with Dean.

But since he was determined to remain silent about it, Sam decided to move on to other matters for now.

“All right. Well, as I was telling Cas, I prepared some food for the both of you.” Returning to the stove, he pulled out a chair for Dean. 

Dean made a face, but advanced to the table.

“Sammy, you know I don’t do breakfast,” he said, sitting down.

And even though Castiel knew this to be true, that didn’t prevent him from nearly choking on his coffee at Dean’s words, considering the exceptions.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t make breakfast then,” said Sam. “It’s early afternoon so I made us lunch.”

“Smart-ass. I don’t—” and he stopped mid-sentence when he finally paid attention to the plates on the table. “Are those taco shells?”

“Yup.”

“Huh. And, um, where did you find them?”

“Where you hid them,” said Sam nonchalantly. “I know where you stash your stuff. I thought whatever you were hiding would cheer you up. Though, I gotta say…taco shells? Not what I was expecting.”

“One, to each his own, Sammy,” said Dean, smirking. “And two, it wasn’t the only thing there…”

“Yeah, well, I figured that serving you whiskey on an empty stomach, that early in the day, might not be the healthiest choice.”

While he remained silent at Sam’s argument, a faint smile formed on Dean’s face.

And once Sam dropped the plate of beef in front of Dean, it didn’t take him long before grabbing one of the shells. With Dean’s arm resting in the sling, Castiel offered to help him, but he kindly refused, and based on Sam’s expression, he was not at all shocked or impressed by Dean’s answer. Fortunately, the shells were the flat bottom kind, thus rendering Dean’s task less difficult for him.

But he still struggled.

By the time he was nearly done preparing his first taco, Castiel was already on the last bite of his second one, while Sam was about to begin his third.

And for the past minute or so, they both had to witness Dean’s frustration rise as he attempted to add cherry tomatoes and shredded cheese with great effort. No matter how Dean tried to keep them in place, most of the shredded cheese kept falling next to his taco and the tomatoes were simply rolling off onto his plate.

“Can I help you?” repeated Castiel.

Dean nodded shyly and slid his plate towards Castiel.

“I’m about to make myself another one. I can prepare one for you too while I’m at it,” he suggested as he delicately fixed the tomato that had given Dean so much annoyance.

And after Dean finally got to take his first bite, he nodded once more at Castiel’s proposition. “Thanks.”

“Just like the one you made?” he said, reaching for the beef, remembering how Dean had layered his taco.

“Any way you want. And, um, thank you,” he said, after clearing his throat.

They then continued eating in silence, taming their appetite, with Sam smiling across the table, as he watched Dean finally enjoying his food.

“So, Dean, care to tell me what happened, exactly?” asked Sam. “While I know how the night ended, I don’t know much about the rest.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t the hospital call you? Aren’t you the one who called Cas?”

Sam told him that the hospital had only informed him of his condition, nothing else.

So, Dean began his whole heroic tale of the previous night. For the most part, it was relatively similar to the rambling Castiel had gotten out of him at the emergency room.

He was a little more specific regarding some details, however. Like how incredibly crowded the restaurant had been. And how keeping the door open for everyone to exit had resulted with him getting rammed into by a couple of brawny men dashing impatiently through the crowd.

That he had had to wait for a third—not second, but _third_ —ambulance to arrive on the scene before getting a ride to the hospital.

And from there, he recounted how loud and busy the emergency room had been. How anxious it had made him, even after being administered pain medication and his shoulder had been fixed.

Which was a surprise to Castiel, considering how mellow Dean had been on his hospital bed.

What Castiel had found truly interesting about Dean’s retelling, however, was how he had made no mention of his teasing. Unsure if Dean was purposely leaving that part out, he listened with attention to the rest of Dean’s story.

Until Dean said, “I can’t remember if I left my number with the nurse or not though. I know I meant to.”

To which he turned his gaze at Castiel for an answer.

Knowing full well that he might regret it, Castiel decided to give Dean a taste of his own medicine from the night before and said, “I don’t remember you doing so. But even if you did, I wouldn’t expect her to call you anytime soon considering you spent the night serenading me about how beautiful my eyes were.”

“I—what?” said Dean, alarmed.

Sam burst into laughter.

“Oh, you don’t remember that part? Hmmm. Well, there goes one marriage proposal down the drain then,” said Castiel, keeping his face straight.

Dean let out a short, nervous laugh, with his gaze shifting between Sam and Castiel.

“You—you’re kidding, right?”

Castiel held his serious stare as long as he could, long enough to discern panic in Dean’s eyes, until he wasn’t able to suppress his smile anymore.

Instant relief then spread over Dean’s face, as he joined Castiel and Sam in their laughter.

“Okay, wow. You—you almost got me there for a sec.” Dean took a big bite of his taco. “Anyway,” he said, returning to his story, “um, I—I don’t remember where I was in the—but when the doc showed up and all that, we finally got to leave and we—SHIT! MY CAR!” In his agitation, Dean tried to jump to his feet, but froze, half-hoisted up, when his brisk movement caused him pain. Clenching his jaw, he gripped the edge of the table to keep himself stable.

“Whoa! Take it easy, Dean,” warned Sam.

Dean took a deep breath, calming himself down, but he remained on his feet. “My car, Sam. I—I know it’s still at the garage, but I need—and Bobby. I—I was supposed to call Bobby—”

“Dean, slow down,” said Sam, cutting him off. “Everything is okay. Bobby knows what happened—well, most of what happened—and I know how you are, so I took care of the Impala.”

“You did? How—but—”

“I’ll tell you, but you seriously need to relax before you hurt yourself.”

Dean pulled a bit of resistance, but after a few deep breaths, and glancing at Castiel, who nodded at him, Dean took his seat back.

Somewhat bitterly, but still.

Once Sam was satisfied that Dean had sufficiently calmed down, he informed Dean that right before taking the road back to Chicago earlier that day, he had given Bobby a call to let him know of the situation about Dean’s state and the location of his car.

“Ash and Garth brought back the Impala to your safe parking spot this morning.”

“Awesome,” said Dean, sighing in relief. “Where are my keys?”

“I have them. They were told to not disturb you, as this was really early in the morning, so they held onto them, until I picked them up when I stopped at the garage just before coming here.”

Dean immediately extended his right arm, opening his hand, demanding his keys back.

But Sam said, “And I’m keeping them for now.”

“Sam,” groaned Dean.

“You can’t use them right now, anyway. So, what does it change?”

“I want my keys.”

“Tough,” said Sam as he continued chewing on his taco.

Dean made a face. After a long minute of silence, he then asked, “So, um, how much does Bobby know? Like, what did he say?”

Sam shook his head, evidently exasperated by Dean’s stubbornness.

“He knows about your injury, if that’s what you mean. And he said that you’re not to show up for work until at least Tuesday. And even then, given your job, don’t expect to be doing your usual stuff.”

“What?” yelled Dean. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t be working, Dean,” said Castiel. “You’ll be able to get rid of the sling in a few days, but you’re still not supposed to do heavy lifting and all that for a while, remember? That’s what the doctor said.”

Dean lowered his eyes and gave Castiel and Sam a nod.

Although Dean seemed to have gotten the message, Castiel wasn’t sure how well he would follow through with these directives after a few days cooped up inside.

As far as he knew, staying in for a quiet evening was everything but Dean’s style.

After lunch, Castiel and Sam took care of the dishes while Dean was making a fuss about not being able to contribute. Once it was clear that they wouldn’t even let him bring one cup to the counter, Dean groaned and excused himself to the bathroom.

“So, I gotta ask,” said Sam in a low voice as soon as the bathroom door was shut. “What you said about Dean sweet-talking you last night, was it true or were you just messing with him?”

Castiel froze for a second. Desperate to not appear uncomfortable, he then continued scrubbing the pan, keeping his gaze away from Sam’s face. “He did mention a few things along the lines, but I know he was simply teasing and that it was probably due to the pain medication. It also wasn’t to the degree I implied. He certainly didn’t propose. Jokingly or not. That was really me just making fun of him.”

Sam chuckled. “Well, it worked all right. His face was kinda priceless. Thank you for that.” There was a short pause and then he added, “I’m really glad you and Dean are getting along. Like, I’m happy you’re his roommate. Considering Dean’s previous ones, whenever Dean was talking about you, I was wondering if he was just telling me this so I’d stop worrying or…anyway. I see that everything he said was the truth and I’m really happy about that.”

And while this was a rather nice compliment, Castiel was a tad confused by it. He vaguely remembered Dean mentioning a complication about the housing arrangement when he had first visited the apartment. But it hadn’t been anything as dire as what Sam was implying here, which had been why, until a moment ago, Castiel hadn’t pondered on the matter that deeply.

Debating if he should ask Sam to expand on that subject, Castiel remained silent when the bathroom door opened, announcing Dean’s return.

Shortly after this, once all the dishes had been washed and put back in their respective spots, Sam said, “All right. I think I’m gonna head out now.”

“You’re going already?” said Dean. “You just got here. For a guy who acted like I was about to die on my own, you sure are leaving pretty fast.”

“You keep insisting you don’t need my help. Changed your mind?”

“Nope. Thanks. I’m okay. I got everything I need right here.”

“Uh-huh. I can see that.” Sam’s eyes fell on Castiel for a second, only to immediately shift back to Dean. “Let me know if you need help though,” he said to his brother. He turned to Castiel. “Nice to have _finally_ met you, Cas. Hopefully, it won’t take as long until I see you again.”

“Let’s hope,” he answered, smiling.

And just as Sam was moving towards the door, Dean yelled, “Hey, wait! My keys! You still haven’t given me my keys back.”

Sam looked up to the ceiling, annoyed. “So close,” he whispered. “Dean, you shouldn’t drive.”

“I won’t.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow at him, evidently not convinced.

He retrieved the keys from his jacket pocket, and after debating on the matter for a few seconds, he handed them to Castiel.

“Hey!” protested Dean.

“You’re in charge of those,” said Sam to Castiel. “He’s gonna try to get them back. Don’t let him.”

“I won’t,” promised Castiel, immediately shoving the keys into his back pocket.

Sam let out a little laugh and said, “I believe you, but I might rethink the location. Don’t think that’s gonna slow him down.”

It was the way Sam had said that made Castiel pause for a moment. But before he could comment on it, he heard Dean yell at his brother, “Bitch!”

“Jerk.”

And just like that, after a final goodbye to them both, Sam stepped out the door, and Castiel found himself alone with Dean in their own apartment for the first time in a really long time.

With nowhere to go.

Not much to do.

And a mild vibe of awkwardness roaming around.


	4. Chapter Four: The Roommates

After a long uncomfortable moment of silence, during which they stared at each other, Castiel asked Dean how he was feeling.

“Cas,” he said, laughing, “I swear I’m fine. I know you and Sam mean well, and I appreciate it, but if one more person asks me if I’m fine, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Of course. I—I promise I’ll refrain from asking again. _If_ you promise to let me know if something is wrong.”

Dean shook his head, grinning. “Fine. Fair enough. I promise,” he said, lifting his right hand. Wishing to change the subject, he then added, “So, um, what did you have planned for the day? I usually head to the garage rather early on Saturdays, so, um, I don’t really know what you’re up to.”

“Nothing much, actually. Unless I switch shifts with one of my co-workers for a special occasion, I typically take this day to rest.”

Dean squinted at him, amused. “Do you, really? Or you’re just saying that for my benefit? Because I find your answer extremely convenient.”

“I assure you that’s the truth.”

After a pause, Dean said, “Okay. But if you have plans with—I’m fine. I promise to stay here and relax. And if there’s an issue, I’ll reach out to you or Sam.”

“Good to know. But I really didn’t have any plans other than staying in today.”

Wishing to get his point across, Castiel left his spot and slowly made his way to the couch, hoping it would help lessen the awkward vibe between the two.

Dean followed him into the living room, but stood still in front of the couch for a moment.

“Huh. All right,” he said, finally sitting down at the other end. “So, I guess we’ll get to have a proper hang out session. Something that we haven’t managed to do yet. Which is a bit weird when I think about it. I mean, you’ve been here since…October?”

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

“Guess so,” laughed Dean. “So, um, what’s new with you?” he asked jokingly. “You said the schedule at the bookstore changed. Does it bother you to work later at night?”

“Not really. I get to sleep in and I’m not really a morning person,” admitted Castiel. “That works to my advantage.”

“And what about school? I remember you had mentioned something about grad school when we met.” He paused a moment, pondering on the matter. “Literature. Is that what it was? Or did I dream that?”

“Um, no, you didn’t. I—that was the plan initially. I postponed it last year because I wasn’t sure where I wanted to apply and other stuff too, but, um—anyways, I don’t think I will do it at all now.”

“Really? Why not?”

After repositioning himself on the couch, he answered, “I’m comfortable where I am for now, and while I really love going to school, I’m not sure pursuing a career in academics is really what I want.”

“Hence the ambivalence,” added Dean. “And if not this, then what?”

“No idea. I guess that, because I was fine at the bookstore, I felt like my finances were a more pressing issue over my career choice. It sounds ridiculous said like this as they are definitely linked, but you know. At least, I was able to save a bit of money when I moved in here at the beginning of the fall. Thank you, again, by the way,” he said, smiling.

“No problem. Minus the career choice, I was pretty much in a rocky situation too.”

Broaching that particular topic reminded Castiel of Sam’s odd comment regarding Dean’s previous roommates. He wondered if yielding the conversation in that direction was a wise decision or not. After all, what mattered was that they were both (and apparently Sam as well) content with the housing arrangement.

But curiosity still got the better of him.

“What kind of rocky situation?”

Dean shifted a bit. “Just the usual crap. Finding a good roommate can be tricky at times, you know? Even if you get along with some people or it seems like a good fit on paper, it doesn’t always turn out that way.”

And even though everything Dean had just said made perfect sense to Castiel, he couldn’t help but think that there was more to this story than Dean was telling him.

“Do you want to watch something?” Dean suggested.

His obvious attempt to change the subject supported Castiel’s suspicion.

So, Castiel decided that it wasn’t urgent information and dropped the matter.

For now.

“Of course. Anything in particular?”

“Yes, actually. I meant to ask you about this, like, months ago when you first got here, because it’s one of the series you have on DVD.”

Surprised, Castiel said, “Tell me which one and I’ll get it.”

“No, I can do that.”

Giving no time him to object, Dean climbed off the couch and reached the bookshelf next to the television. He picked up a case, without searching too much, almost like he knew exactly where it was. Grinning, he handed it to Castiel and said, “I think it’s very fitting to watch it now.”

It was the boxset of _ER_ ’s first season.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I think so too.”

“Dean… You sure this would be the best thing for you to watch?”

“Too soon for you?”

Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Please?” said Dean. “Nineties Clooney and Wyle? Sold. I’ve never seen it.”

Castiel nearly dropped the boxset. “Never? You live in Chicago and you’ve never watched _ER_?”

“Nope. One, I didn’t know it was a requirement to live here. And two, my medical drama is _Dr. Sexy_.”

That wasn’t new information to Castiel. He had often returned home late at night and had found Dean deeply invested in an episode, barely mumbling a few words of acknowledgement to him.

“All right, then. _ER_ it is.”

“You don’t mind? You have all the seasons, so I’m assuming you’ve seen it all.”

“That is a correct deduction. And no, I don’t mind.”

And thus began their little marathon. Dean sat comfortably with a couple of pillows surrounding him—at Castiel’s insistence—and his legs resting on the coffee table, while Castiel lolled at the other end, turned on an angle, with his legs partially stretching on the couch until his feet met Dean’s pillows. 

Except when they briefly paused the show because Dean needed to put some ice on his shoulder, something that Castiel was happy to help him with, they remained that way for a few hours, perfectly content and enjoying their program. The hairdos and general fashion sense were enough to make Dean giggle once in a while, but the outdated technology was what Dean commented on the most. That and the security regulations. He seemed to genuinely enjoy the show and get involved with the characters’ dynamic, however.

Which pleased Castiel.

By the end of the third episode, they took a mini-break and Castiel offered to make coffee for the both of them. Since he was in the kitchen while the coffee was still brewing, he decided to grab a few snacks for them.

Craftily, he carried everything to the living room in one go, dropped the bags of chips and pretzels on the coffee table, and handed one of the two plates he was holding to Dean, only to put down the second one on the side table next to his spot.

Dean observed with interest the contents of his plate. A small piece of Castiel’s honey cheesecake.

“For me?” he asked.

“I made it last night. There’s not much left, but I thought we could split it.”

Dean gaped at him. “Wait. _You_ made this?”

Castiel nodded.

His gaze falling on the cake once more, Dean then asked, “Were all the desserts left in the fridge made by you or—were they?”

“Um, I honestly don’t know. I may have bought a few. But I probably made most of them, yes.”

“Even the bear claws and the apple cinnamon custard cake you had left for me around Christmas?”

Castiel had to think about it for a short instant, but yes, he informed Dean that he had made those as well. Dean stared at Castiel. He opened his mouth as though he was about to say something, but shut it quickly and remained quiet.

“Something wrong?” Castiel asked.

“Nope. All good. And it looks delicious.”

Unsure about what to say, Castiel then headed back to the kitchen when he heard the coffee was no longer brewing. While he didn’t know much about Dean, he at least knew he preferred his coffee black.

Just like Castiel.

With Castiel back in the living room, Dean put his plate aside and reached for the mug Castiel was presenting him. Mug in hand, he smiled and hummed at the smell of coffee, while Castiel took his seat back.

“Cas? Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. About what?”

“Did I—I know you said that you were simply messing with me earlier, but did I do—or say—something weird last night? Like, did I, um, how was it you said it? _Serenade about your eyes_?”

Castiel stopped chewing. He swallowed quickly and said, “You didn’t. Not really.”

There was a short pause and Dean asked, “Okay, but what does that mean? Yes or no?”

“You did. But you—Dean, it was obvious you were only joking.”

“How?”

“How what?”

“How do you know I was kidding?”

“Because you told me so.”

Eyeing his plate, Dean nodded. “Can I ask what I said? Or did I do something else? I—I just want to make sure I wasn’t a jerk to you or made you feel uncomfortable.”

“You weren’t. I certainly wasn’t expecting it, but don’t worry. If anything, it was flattering. But, um, everything is okay. Nothing was distasteful.”

“Okay. I—I just wanted to make sure. And thank you, by the way. For last night. Coming to get me and all. I—I don’t know if I said that already, but thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

They continued eating their cake in silence, and once Castiel ate his last bite, he put the plate aside and took a sip of his strong coffee.

“Dean? Can I ask you a question too?”

“Shoot.”

“Were you really at work last night?”

“Yeah. Why?” he said, frowning at him.

“I just thought—I thought you went out. That’s what your note said. Did someone cancel at the last minute or you simply changed your mind and decided to go to work?”

“No, I didn’t have any plans. I just did what I usually do on Fridays to give you your night. Especially since it was Valentine’s Day too, so…you know. Which is—I didn’t want to say anything before because I felt really bad, but I’m so sorry about ruining your night. That was the main reason why I told Sam to leave you alone. And now, you haven’t mentioned anything about Hannah—and she obviously wasn’t here when we came back—so she must be pretty pissed.”

Castiel, confused as ever, frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You and your—I know she usually visits you on Friday nights. After the first few weekends when you moved here, I kinda got the picture, so I decided to leave you guys alone,” he said as though it was self-explanatory.

Stunned, Castiel couldn’t do anything but stare at him. “You did?”

“Yeah. Of course. And still do. Why else do you think I constantly leave you these notes on _Friday nights_? I was trying to let you know the coast was clear without being utterly, um, tactless. I’ve been told I lack a bit of subtlety in that department.”

“Hold on,” said Castiel, turning himself to face Dean properly, with his right arm resting on the back of the couch. “You’re saying that you went out all night just because—you didn’t have to do that, Dean.”

“Pfff. It’s fine,” he said, waving his hand at him. “Actually, you kinda did me a service. Something _good_ came out of it.”

Trying to not think too much on what that could possibly mean, Castiel pressed on. “Okay, but no—I mean, you didn’t have to do this. As in, Hannah wasn’t here. Well, she was for the first month or so, but—anyway. I—I really didn’t know you were doing this for my benefit. Sorry. If I had, I would have told you it was pointless to do so because we broke up.”

Dean flinched. “What? What happened? _When_ did this happen?”

“Um, officially, not long after the holidays. And it wasn’t—it was a mutual decision. We more or less anticipated that it would be ending that way. We were already struggling before she left for North Carolina. After that, it simply got more complicated.”

“Really?” said Dean. “I—wow. I’m sorry, I don’t mean _wow_ , like—I just…you two seemed so in sync and everything. I know I didn’t get to know her very much—or you, as a matter of fact—but I really thought you guys looked pretty solid.” He paused a moment, reflecting on his words, and added, “And _awesome_. Now I feel like everything I just said was probably the wrong thing to say.”

Castiel let out a laugh. “It’s okay. I told you, it didn’t end badly. We knew we were heading in different directions and I think we were trying to convince ourselves that it wasn’t the case. I’m not really sure why. It was rather obvious. Especially around the holidays when we—anyway. Long story short, we broke up over a month ago.”

“Shit, Cas. I’m sorry. About everything. And I feel so stupid I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be. Why would you—I’m the one who should have said something. It just never came up, and after a while, because you stopped asking me about her, and because she obviously hadn’t come by in a really long time, I just assumed you had guessed.”

“Nope. I really hadn’t.”

They remained silent for a moment and then Castiel said, “I still can’t believe you purposely avoided the apartment on Fridays.”

“I figured you wouldn’t have wanted a weirdo lurking around.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not true and this is your place too.”

“No worries, Cas. I managed.”

“And what does that mean?”

Considering how most of Dean’s Saturdays ended, it wasn’t really a stretch to believe his Fridays occurred in the same fashion, and while Castiel wasn’t in a hurry to get a detailed account about it, here he was, questioning Dean on the very subject of which he firmly believed ignorance was bliss.

Until another _troubling_ thought occurred to him.

“Do you—were you visiting someone special? Are you seeing anyone?”

“Um, Cas, if that were the case, I’d have some explaining to do about the other nights,” said Dean, amused.

“Depends if you were exclusive or not, and I’m asking because I seem to recall a familiar face who returned once or twice.”

Grinning, Dean said, “You keeping tabs on me?”

“Of course, not. But we do share breakfast.”

Dean, nodding, lowered his eyes for a second, only to lift them back up and looked directly at Castiel.

“Well, just for the record, no, I’m not seeing anyone. On Fridays or any other days. I was mostly hanging out at Sam’s or with a couple of my friends on Fridays.” Still staring at him, Dean moved one of his pillows and slid a little closer to Castiel. “But I’m glad to know this. Changes everything now.”

“Like that you won’t have to make yourself unnecessarily scarce every Friday night?”

“Actually,” said Dean, with a massive grin on his face, “I was thinking of something even better.”

“Such as?”

“You’re single. And so am I. What do you make of that?”

Castiel’s heart momentarily stopped. All he wanted was to divert his gaze, but knowing it would be a dead giveaway, he continued staring at Dean.

“I—and what am I supposed to make of this?”

There was a long pause as he waited for Dean’s answer.

“That we are _so_ becoming each other’s wingman!” said Dean as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Next time I go out, you are coming with me and it will help you forget about your break up. Right?”

“Right. Of course. Terrific. Can’t wait.”

And feeling a whole new level of awkwardness floating over his head, Castiel thought they had sufficiently spoken and was ready to continue watching _ER_ now.


	5. Chapter Five: The Rising Son

The fresh, chilly winter air rendered Castiel’s cheeks and the tip of his nose numb on the following Friday night, as he and Dean headed into _The Rising Son_ , a pub not too far from Dean’s work.

Castiel could not believe he had decided to go through with Dean’s absurd suggestion. Not only did the whole concept make him feel incredibly uneasy, as being Dean’s wingman was the opposite of what his heart desired, but there was also the issue of Dean’s well-being. Using Dean’s injured shoulder as an argument, he had tried to dissuade him from his plans all the way to the pub (as well as earlier in the evening, and pretty much on any occasion during the week).

But Dean wouldn’t hear of it.

He had properly worn the sling during the first few days after his incident like he had been instructed to. He even used it still when he slept, just in case. He had applied ice when needed. He had re-read the information Nurse Blake had given to him and had followed every directive to the letter. He had been careful throughout the week, and this, at the apartment, just like at his work. He had listened to Castiel and had let him help him when he required his assistance (which usually involved food). And he had remained at home until Tuesday, during which he took the time to truly rest, just like Bobby and Sam had requested.

He had even stayed away from his car.

Even on that particular night out, when they took an Uber to the pub.

So, Dean had won the argument that, as long as he remained vigilant, there wasn’t any reason as to why they couldn’t go to a pub, drink a few pints and _socialize_ with the lovely people present.

Sadly, Castiel’s discomfort did not end there. In addition to agreeing with Dean’s evening plan, he had also obliged Dean’s idea of wearing something else than what he had originally selected.

Castiel always preferred to dress comfortably as much as possible. Which had been why he had paired up one of his nicest shirts with a cozy cardigan. The moment he had stepped out of his room, however, it became clear that Dean had a few suggestions.

“Um, Cas? How about you leave your cardigan behind? Keep the shirt and, oh—wear your charcoal suit and your blue tie. The one that’s super bright. Like, not neon, but the—you know the one.”

“Dean, that means changing my entire outfit.” He sighed and looked down at his clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he asked, trying to not take it personally.

“Nothing, of course,” said Dean, and Castiel took some form of comfort at the tone of sincerity in his voice. “Just—that’s what you wear all the time and I thought you might want to change it up for tonight, huh? I’ve seen you wearing that suit a couple of weeks ago. It was nice. It can be another one too. Just—trust me, if you wear that one, it will make an impression.”

That was more or less the point, thought Castiel, he _didn’t_ wish to make too much of an impression. His last argument to remain dressed as he was consisted in pointing out that Dean wasn’t exactly dressed to the nines, either.

And Dean’s reply was a “Just do it” face.

To which Castiel complied.

And now at the pub, standing by the entrance and assessing the general casual attire of everyone around him, Castiel felt grossly overdressed. The moment he took his coat off, however, two men who were exiting the pub paused on their way out, flagrantly eyed Castiel, only to continue on their way after giving him warm smiles.

Frowning, Castiel looked at Dean who was grinning like an idiot, very proud of himself.

Castiel and Dean reached the bar, and while Dean ordered each of them a pint of his favourite brand of beer on tap, Castiel examined the room more extensively. At least the place had a genuinely merry vibe to it, nothing like the shady and depressing place Gabriel and Balthazar often frequented.

A small group of men were laughing wholeheartedly in a booth on the left and so was another group of friends a little closer to the bar, though all their attention seemed to be focused on the game playing on the screen.

His eyes then fell on a group of women who were all wearing pink shirts with shiny banners. Every one of them. Except one who had a bright pink feathery boa wrapped around her neck and a crown on her head.

A bachelorette party, deduced Castiel.

“See anyone you like?” asked Dean, handing a beer to him.

“Um, just looking.”

“Well, they sure seem fun,” said Dean, smiling at the group of bachelorettes, who were whispering amongst themselves as they were clearly looking in their direction.

Convinced that the group was checking out Dean, Castiel turned himself to focus on his friend instead. “And what about you? Spotted someone?”

“Not yet, but the night is young, Cas.” He followed one guy crossing the room with his eyes and then returned his attention to Castiel once he noticed the man in question had reached the side of a pretty brunette and had wrapped his arm over her shoulder. Dean took a big swig of his beer. “So, now that we’re here, what—or I should say, _who_ —are you looking for tonight? Like, what’s your type?”

“I’m fairly certain I don’t have one.”

“Yeah… I don’t buy that.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“There must be something though. What usually catches your eye? You don’t have to be super specific. And I don’t just mean physical appearance.”

Castiel pondered on Dean’s comment for a moment, but the fact was that Castiel truly never paid that much attention to those details. Of course, he wouldn’t go so far as implying that physical appearance was _irrelevant_ , but he certainly didn’t consider that variant to be a crucial one.

Even when he reflected on other attributes, such as the type of personalities (down to even preferred hobbies), he still couldn’t discern a clear correlation between his exes and crushes. To him, the whole concept of “having a type” was nonsensical.

And he told Dean so.

“Wow. You’re really not gonna make this easy for me, are you? Fine. Let’s look at it in another way, then. What about tonight? Like, what are you hoping for? A fling? Maybe something more than that? For whom did you come here tonight?’

And Castiel bit hard on his lips as he sure as hell was not about to share that piece of information out loud _to Dean_.

Which was why his only defense was, “You’re the one who dragged me here.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, come on. Anything? Ugh, okay. Look,” he said, nodding to their left. A brawny blond guy, who was waiting for his drink at the bar not very far from them, was clearly looking in their direction.

“What do you think of him?”

“Um, he’s nice. But I—I don’t know.”

“Right. He seems a bit serious. Maybe a little too serious.” Dean turned around and after a quick glance, he told Castiel in a low voice, “What about her?” A perky strawberry blond was talking vivaciously with her friend, who was holding a glass of wine.

“Dean, I don’t know.”

“Why not? See, this is why I was asking about your type. How am I supposed to help if I have no clue what you’re looking for?”

While he knew Dean had a point, Castiel was still resolute that he didn’t have a type, either.

“Just try and talk to her. See what happens.”

“She’s talking to her friend.”

“And maybe she’d much prefer talking to you,” argued Dean as he gently nudged him in her direction.

Out of excuses, Castiel took a deep breath and advanced slowly towards her.

And after standing still and not uttering one single word for far too long, he finally said rather quickly, “Do you know where the expression ‘Drinking to your good health’ comes from?”

Both women went quiet as ever and stared at him questioningly.

But after taking a good look at Castiel, the strawberry blond fixed her hair and said, smiling, “No. I don’t.”

“I’ve heard it comes from the antiquities when the host would drink the wine before his guests to reassure them that it wasn’t poisoned.”

Both women smiled at him.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Although, that’s only what I’ve heard. I confess that I am not entirely sure how truthful the source was.”

“And what source was that?”

“A book I was reading during my lunch break.”

Both women exchanged a look, smirking.

“A book, huh?” said the strawberry blond. She took a small step towards him, while her friend took another sip of her drink. “Got any more fun facts for us?”

He fought the urge to glance at Dean, shifted slightly on his feet and said, “I suppose I do.”

“Shoot.”

“I’ve read somewhere that the creator of Coca-Cola had included wine in the original product and claimed that it was supposedly helpful to those with a low sexual libido.”

The strawberry blond’s friend choked on her drink, making the other one burst into laughter.

“And why on earth did they get rid of it, then?” she said, between giggles.

“Well, not that I am in any position to confirm this, but I very much doubt that it was accurate. That being said, the reason why the creator had to get rid of the wine was because of Prohibition.”

Both women said, “Ooooh!”

The strawberry blond was now standing very close to him. She looked Castiel straight in the eye. “All right. Give us one more and then I’m the one who gets to tell _you_ fun facts. And who knows? Privately, maybe.”

Given that his brain was very much focused on the topic of wine, Castiel said the first one that came to mind. “Did you know that it was Kenelm Digby who invented the bottle for the wine? Besides large barrels, the main way to store wine was by using goat skin bags.”

As soon as he noticed the smile of both women disappear, he understood that keeping that one for himself might have been a better idea.

The strawberry blond stepped away from him, while her friend was staring at him, resting her free hand over her chest as though he had said something immensely offensive.

“ _Goat skin_?”

“Like…the actual _skin_?”

“No. Well…yes, but it was—many traditions from around the world still—”

And without letting him finish his sentence, the strawberry blond took hold of her friend’s arm and walked away from him.

One look at Dean and it was obvious he was holding a grin down.

“What?” said Castiel, after he had returned to his side.

“Nothing.”

And then he hurried to take another long sip of his drink.

“You’re laughing at me,” said Castiel, almost chuckling himself. “For your information, Dean, this was precisely why I didn’t want to come here tonight. I am aware that this is the way of the land, but I never believed I was genetically prepared for this.”

“What? What do you mean? Okay, it’s not the way I would have made my approach, but hey, until you mentioned that goat skin, it wasn’t half-bad. That was almost adorable even.”

“Shut up,” said Castiel, laughing. “And it’s a goat skin _bag_ ,” he corrected Dean. “You know, like a pouch! And obviously it was cleaned and—”

“It’s all right, Cas,” said Dean, tapping on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about that now. That—that did not go exactly as planned, but so what? Plenty of fish in the sea. Next time, might wanna skip anything gross about animals. Or just anything gross altogether. Just out of curiosity though, was that what you told Hannah when you asked her out? Where did you meet her? How did you meet her?”

“Um, no. Well, I—okay, I—I asked her out when I met her at a party. A friend of mine, Balthazar, had dragged me to it…even though I had protested the whole way there. But I know what you’re going to say,” he then said hastily as Dean was grinning from ear to ear, “and I feel like I need to add that I already knew her. It’s not like we met there for the first time and—”

“But did you ask her out before that night?” asked Dean, not letting him finish his sentence.

Castiel pursed his lips. “No.”

“Ha! And here I was thinking your cruising grounds were probably the library or the bookstore.”

“You mean, where I work and dutifully used to study?”

“Is that really all you _do_ there? You do spend long hours at the bookstore.”

“Is this what _you_ do when you’re at work?”

“No,” admitted Dean. “But there isn’t much interaction with the customers on my end. Not like you, anyway. And, um, like I said, you really do spend long hours there. Even after the bookstore closes.”

Castiel opened his mouth and shut it, thinking on Dean’s comment. “Okay, I admit that I may not return home immediately after my shift. Sometimes.”

“ _You don’t say_? And may I ask where exactly do you go? And who do you meet?”

“I’m not meeting anyone. There’s a twenty-four hour gym not even two blocks from the bookstore, and a yoga center where I’ve been taking a class since the new year, actually.”

Dean leaned back his head, stunned at this information. “What? I—and you go there in the dead of night? Like…when you say going to the gym, you really mean…it’s not like—”

“I really go to the gym, Dean. To work out. In the true sense of the term.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow as he nodded at him. “All right. I—I’m gonna come back to that later, but for now, you still haven’t answered my question. You met Hannah at a party. What happened?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose. I knew her from school. She had been part of my study group during my first year. I had seen her on campus once in a while after that, but there hadn’t been anything more to it than that. Then, I spotted her at the party and we got into talking and—and we pretty much spent the rest of the evening together. When it was time for her to return home with her friends, I made sure she had my number.”

Dean squinted at him, with a smile forming itself at the corner of his mouth. “And that’s _how_ the night really ended? No goodnight kiss? Or overnight invitations? Or anything else?”

Keeping his composure and his stare, Castiel said, “That’s how the night ended, yes. She called me the next day and set up our first date and then…so on.”

Dean was still staring at him, clearly convinced that Castiel was holding on to some details.

Which, as a matter of fact, he very much was.

While he hadn’t lied about the end of the night, he had omitted certain details regarding the party.

But Castiel wasn’t about to tell him that.

His main reason for doing so was because a part of him was deeply contemplating the idea of simply showing Dean for himself, rather than simply informing him of the particulars.

After a moment of being lost in his crazy daydreaming, however, Castiel returned to earth when someone appeared next to them.

“Hi.”

They both turned, surprised to see the entire group of the bachelorette party waiting by their side.

“Hello,” said Dean warmly.

“I’m Chastity. Sorry to bother you guys,” said a beautiful woman with blonde hair.

“Hello, Chastity. No bother. What’s up?”

“We’re doing this sort of scavenger/dare list for the party,” said another woman, a brunette this time. She showed them a pink and gold card she was holding.

Dean, like Castiel, knew where this was going.

“I see,” said Dean, looking delighted. “Anything we can help you with?”

“Well, this one here,” said the one who was wearing the crown, as she pointed at Chastity, “is the only one who hasn’t completed her dare in this place yet.”

“She’s a little shy,” said the blonde, after gulping down a drink.

“Stop, I’m not.”

“What’s the dare?”

She bit her lips and showed them the card.

_Get a photo with the hottest guy in the place._

_Twice the points if you steal a kiss._

She then turned to Castiel and said, “Would you mind?”

Because her eyes kept looking back and forth between him and Dean, and also because Castiel being Castiel—the king of misunderstanding social cues—thought she was asking his permission for her to kiss Dean.

“Um, we’re friends. We’re not—” and not bothering to finish his sentence, he then signalled her to go ahead and kiss Dean, whom he had no doubt was willing.

Chastity momentarily froze, with her eyes bouncing from Dean to Castiel once more, seemingly nonplussed.

Dean and the rest of the group let out a sudden laugh.

“She means you, handsome,” said Dean, chuckling. “She wants to kiss _you_.”

“Me? I—what?” He turned to Chastity who looked at him shyly. As he was processing the information, more confused than ever, he began saying, “But that means—I—”

At a loss for words, he felt Dean take his pint glass from his hand and tug him towards her. She handed Dean her phone and asked him to take the picture. And with a massive grin on his face, Dean was more than ready to oblige her request.

Facing Castiel, she said in a low voice, “You okay with this? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s—it’s fine. I simply misunderstood what you meant.”

And without further ado, she brought her hand to his neck, pulling him closer to her, and pressed her lips against his.

If Castiel had thought this was to be a quick kiss, just long enough for Dean to take the picture, he had been greatly mistaken. It seemed that Chastity wasn’t doing anything half-way, and long story short, with a deep kiss, hands running through his hair, and even a smooth slip of the tongue, she gave it her all.

And quite frankly, for a very brief moment, Castiel lost himself to the kiss and forgot everything around him.

Until he heard someone whistling.

Dean chuckled at his side, while the rest of the group cheered.

When they finally broke the kiss, she said, smiling as she fixed Castiel’s shirt, “Thanks. That was worth it.” She turned to Dean. “Did you get it?”

“Hell, yeah. Unless you want me to say no and have another go.”

It had taken everything Castiel had to not shoot Dean an annoyed look.

“Extremely tempting,” she said, smirking at Castiel. “But we have to go,” she said, nodding at the bride.

“All right. Oh, wait,” said Dean, holding on to her phone. “Are you planning on posting this or is this just between yourselves? If it’s the latter, can I have a copy? I promise I won’t post it. I just think we’re gonna need it for prosperity.”

“We were going to post it. If you’re cool with that, of course,” she added, looking at Castiel.

His eyes shifted on Dean who was giving him the thumbs up.

“Yes, of course. That’s not a problem.”

“Great! I’ll tag you.” And with the help of a very eager Dean to give her all the information she needed, she typed on her phone quickly. “Done. Thank you. And if you change your mind later on, feel free to let me know.”

She left with her group after they all said goodbye to them both.

And then, not even five seconds after their departure, Castiel’s phone buzzed.

Gabriel: AM I DREAMING?

Gabriel: IS THIS PHOTOSHOPPED?

Gabriel: WHO IS THIS?

Gabriel: WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?

Gabriel: TELL ME EVERYTHING

Gabriel: NOW.

Balthazar: Everything Gabe just said.

Balthazar: I honestly had to bloody scroll back until I realized it was you.

“Of course,” muttered Castiel.

Castiel: How?

Castiel: It was posted not even a minute ago!

Castiel: It’s like you guys were waiting for it.

Balthazar: You never post anything!

Castiel: I didn’t post it.

Gabriel: LIKE EVER.

Gabriel: SO YEAH.

Gabriel: WE NOTICED.

Balthazar: And we’re still waiting for an explanation.

Castiel sighed deeply.

“Everything okay?”

He lifted his head and realized Dean had been waiting for him.

“Sorry. Yes. It’s just—my friends. They saw the picture on Instagram and they have a lot of questions.”

“I bet!” he said, chuckling. “Tell them to join us if you want. I’d like to meet them.”

“I would but that’s not possible. They are both out of the country at the moment. Hold on, let me just reply something quick for a second.”

Castiel: It was just a bachelorette dare thing. That’s all.

Gabriel: Awesome.

Gabriel: I have a follow-up question.

Castiel: Gabe.

Gabriel: It’s says you’re at a pub.

Gabriel: Who dragged you there?

Castiel: I’m here with Dean.

Castiel: He sort of made me.

Castiel: He didn’t know I had broken up with Hannah and the moment he knew, he suggested it.

Castiel: So, I’m not stuck in the comfort of my own living room.

Castiel: THERE.

Castiel: You happy?

Balthazar: Very much so.

Balthazar: We’ll let you enjoy your evening for now.

Gabriel: WAIT

Gabriel: WHAT?

Gabriel: I STILL HAVE QUESTIONS.

Balthazar: Say hello from us.

Balthazar: And I can’t wait to hear more tomorrow.

Gabriel: REALLY B?

Castiel: Thanks.

Castiel: Have a good night—or day, too. Depending on your time zone. I can’t keep track of it.

Balthazar: Bye!

Gabriel: WAIT!!

Gabriel: BALTHAZAR WHY?

Castiel put his phone away, despite feeling it buzz again.

“So, you explained everything?” said Dean, smirking.

“More or less. They say hello, by the way.”

“Hello back…um…”

“Gabriel and Balthazar.”

Dean nodded. “Right. You mentioned them before. I didn’t know they weren’t here though. I just figured you hung out at their place or something.”

“No. They both left in the middle of the summer. Doing some travelling and jobs. Well, internship for Gabe. Anyway. So, now that is dealt with, should we get a table?” he said, glancing around.

“Um, sure. Though, might be a good idea to go to the washroom and clean up a bit,” said Dean, grinning, before taking a sip of his beer.

Castiel frowned. “Why?”

“Trust me,” he said, laughing. “I’ll grab your drink and find us a table.”

Once he arrived in the washroom, Castiel froze the moment he perceived himself in the mirror. His hair was in disarray, and despite the fact that Chastity had fixed his jacket, his clothes were completely out of place.

And he had red lipstick all over his mouth.

Castiel cleaned himself up as best he could, scrubbing his lips to the point that he wasn’t entirely sure if it was still red because of the lipstick or because of all of the scrubbing. After fixing his tie and running a hand over his hair, he washed his face one more time, and headed out of the washroom, feeling renewed.

He scanned the room for a moment and spotted Dean at a table near the right corner of the room. He slowed his pace, however, when he noticed that Dean was in a seemingly deep conversation with a cute red-head. And even though Castiel’s coat was resting on the chair next to Dean, with Castiel’s glass right in front of it, Castiel still hesitated to reach the table.

He didn’t want to intrude.

But then, laughing wholeheartedly, Dean looked up and met his eyes. His smile immediately brightened and he waved at Castiel to come their way. The red-head followed Dean’s gaze and once she spotted Castiel, she turned to Dean gleefully. She gripped his arm excitedly and whispered something in his ear.

Still hesitant, Castiel advanced slowly, but once he saw Dean gesturing at him to join them again, he moved forward.

“Hello,” he said shyly, just as he was reaching the table.

“Cas, this is my friend, Charlie. She just walked in a minute ago. Charlie, this is Cas, my roommate.”

This was not what he had expected.

“Charlie? Like— _the_ Charlie?” said Castiel.

“The one and only, yes,” said Dean.

“Hi, there, Cas!” said Charlie, extending her arm. “I hope you don’t mind me crashing your evening. I needed a break from the office and Dean told me where he was. The pub is barely five minutes away, so...”

“Of course, I don’t mind,” said Castiel, smiling. He took his seat next to Dean, facing her. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Exactly! I was becoming suspicious that Dean was keeping you all to himself.”

“Ugh! It wasn’t my fault. It was because of our stupid schedules,” protested Dean. “Can you explain to her how we barely saw one another since you moved in?” he added, turning to Castiel.

“I’m afraid he’s correct, Charlie.”

“Hmm. Still strange. But anyway, I’m here now! And very happy to be. So, what have I missed so far? Dean, didn’t get to that part yet.”

Chuckling, Dean then recounted the episode of the bachelorette party to Charlie with great animation and heartfelt laughter.

“You’re telling me I missed an entire _group_ of good-looking ladies? Damn it. Show me the picture,” she asked.

“Cas can help you out with that.”

Castiel, rolling his eyes, retrieved his phone once more. Trying very hard to ignore all the comments, as well as the multiple text message notifications from Gabriel, he handed his phone to Charlie after finding the picture and watched her and Dean giggle while staring at it.

“Wow. She wasn’t kidding around,” said Charlie.

“You should have seen him afterwards. I don’t know what was funnier, his what-the-hell-just-happened face or the amount of lipstick smeared all over his mouth.”

“And thank you for letting me know of that last one a good five minutes _after_ it had happened, by the way.”

“I’m a good friend like that.”

Castiel lowered his eyes to his drink, trying to not dwell too much on the word “friend.” Wishing to change the subject, he inquired about how Charlie and Dean had met.

Charlie then began a vigorous tale about how Dean had come to her rescue when her old, but loyal, car (a 1976 AMC Gremlin) had died on her in a grocery parking lot.

Feeling comfortable with the company, Castiel enjoyed hearing funny stories about Dean and Charlie’s misadventures. Like the time they had stopped at a diner on a road trip to Lawrence and the entire menu was vegan, which hadn’t pleased Dean one second. Or the time when Charlie had aided Sam and Dean with shopping for a computer for their father.

“That was sooooo much more complicated than it needed to be,” she said, grinning.

“Not that I want to throw my brother under the bus, but Sam was the one who made it complicated.”

“You just agreed with everything I suggested,” said Charlie.

“Because everything sounded good to me! I’m not that tech savvy and Dad isn’t, either. So, if I was okay with it, I figured Dad would be too.”

And soon, while being wildly entertained by one of Charlie’s office Christmas party tales, they all reached the bottom of their drinks and eagerly ordered another round.

As he listened to Charlie order her drink, Castiel was suddenly hit with a strong feeling that he knew her from somewhere.

“I’m sorry, but do we—have we met before?”

Her face suddenly lit up. “Oh, thank God. It’s not just me!”

“Wait, what?” said Dean.

“That’s what I thought too,” she said, lifting her hands in the air excitedly, “but I can’t place you. I figured it was because Dean keeps jabbering about you—”

“ _I what, now_?”

“But now that you’re bringing it up,” she continued, “I don’t think that’s it. I have no clue from where, though.”

Castiel didn’t know the answer, either. But he gathered that if Charlie looked familiar enough to him, it must be because they had seen each other more than once. Considering the proximity of his apartment and his work, Castiel rarely ventured too far from his neighborhood despite living in a large city.

And that left him with very few options.

The main one being the bookstore.

But before Castiel could share that possibility, Dean had beaten him to the punch.

“I bet it’s the bookstore. Cas works at _The Seraph_.”

“THAT’S WHAT IT IS! Wait, you work there?” she said, suddenly excited. She turned to Dean with a reproachful face. “You didn’t tell me that. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“What are you talking about? Of course, I told you.”

But Charlie shook her head. “You told me he worked at _a_ bookstore. You didn’t say anything about the one near your place!”

“Um, I’m pretty sure I did, but fine. Why does it matter?”

“Waaaaaait!” She was staring down at the table, evidently putting all the pieces of an invisible puzzle together. “Is that how you heard of the apartment?” she then asked Castiel. “Because I remember leaving a flyer there.”

“You what?” said Dean.

And he wasn’t the only one stunned by that statement. Castiel nodded to her.

“Hold up,” said Dean. “What do you mean a flyer?”

“You didn’t know?” asked Castiel.

And Dean shook his head and stared at Charlie for an explanation.

“I wanted to help you,” she said. “I could see you were getting desperate to find a new roommate, so I made flyers and left a bunch in your neighborhood. It was old school and perhaps less effective than an online ad, but I thought if I left them in places that had good vibes, maybe the people responding to them would be better too. And that bookstore was on top of my list.”

“Right,” scoffed Dean. “And I’m sure it had _nothing_ to do with the fact that it gave you an excuse to stop by and talk to the pretty lady employee.”

“That is irrelevant,” said Charlie, shifting on her seat. “The point is that I was right, because it worked!”

“That is very correct. But I must ask which one of my co-workers are you referring to?” inquired Castiel, now amused. “Is it Anna?”

“The one who, according to her,” Dean said, pointing at Charlie, “looks like she’s coming straight out of a medieval fair.”

“That’s…not Anna.”

“No. Her name’s Gilda,” mumbled Charlie.

“Oh, I know who you mean. But Gilda doesn’t work at the store anymore. She left in August, I think.”

Charlie, sinking in her seat and twisting the base of her glass, said, “I was afraid of that.”

And Castiel felt a large smile form itself on his face.

“Not that I want to turn this into a stalking situation, but I happen to know where she is working now. And I may even be able to give her your number.”

Charlie instantly sat up. “Did I mention how much I like you?”

Castiel let out a laugh.

“Hold on a minute, there’s still something I don’t get about this,” said Dean. “I asked you when you visited the apartment how you had heard of the place. You didn’t say anything about a flyer.”

“I may have said ‘advertisement.’ For obvious reasons, I assumed you knew what I was talking about.”

Shifting his eyes as he pondered on the matter, Dean nodded. “I thought it was weird because I had taken down the online ad almost a week before. It was getting me nowhere and I was reconsidering my previous judgement of some people who had previously visited the apartment. But then you contacted me. I just thought maybe you had seen the info before it was taken down and only called me now because another place you might have been waiting for had fallen through or something.”

“Well, all I care about is that it turned out okay for everyone and that I helped this lodging situation. Yay!” she said, lifting her glass before taking a sip of her drink.

They both imitated her, laughing, but not before Dean had made sure to add, “And I don’t _jabber_ …” as a last argument on the matter.

Not long after, the waitress arrived with their drinks and laid three pints on the table.

With an additional drink in front of Castiel.

“I’m sorry,” said Castiel, stopping her before she walked away. “What’s this? I didn’t order this.”

“It’s a gin and tonic. It’s from the gentleman sitting over there,” she said, winking at him.

Castiel, Dean and Charlie all turned following her gaze, and noticed an attractive dark-haired man sitting at the bar who lifted his drink in salutation. He had a scruffy beard and was wearing a dashing suit.

Charlie and Dean immediately waved at him, while Castiel simply stared, astounded.

“And he has an accent. British, I think,” added the waitress before leaving, as if it was important information.

“Ooooh. And he’s handsome too!”

“Someone is very popular tonight,” chanted Dean. “And you wanted to stay in,” he snorted at Castiel. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“You think so?”

“God,” huffed Dean. He slid Castiel’s pint away from him and pushed the glass of gin towards him instead. “Don’t make me drag you there.”

Castiel dithered one more moment, but when it was obvious that he had no reason to at least thank the man, he swallowed hard and left his friends’ side, bringing his drink with him.

And yet, he still had to look at Dean (and Charlie) one last time, who both gave him a not-so-subtle thumbs up, which made him roll his eyes and continue on his path.

“This was for me?” he asked, once he had reached the gentleman’s side.

“Yes. I can get you something else if gin isn’t to your liking. I just figured it was the safest choice. It carries a statement of sort over simply buying you another pint.”

“The drink is fine. Thank you.”

And he stood there awkwardly until he realized that introducing himself might be a good idea. “I’m Castiel,” he finally blurted out.

“Mick. Mick Davies.” And he shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

He took the seat next to him, desperate to not overthink too much. “So, did you just get here? To the pub, I mean.”

“No, actually. I was already here when you arrived.”

Castiel blinked.

“I noticed you when you came in,” he added.

“You did? That was a while ago. Is there a reason why you sent me this now? You waited until after the bachelorette made her move?”

Mick smiled warmly. “I’ll admit that she slowed down my process. _A bit_. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure if you were spoken for or not.”

Castiel tried the most he could to not move, as to not betray himself.

“You mean…” incapable of finishing the sentence, Castiel stopped there and focused all his attention on Mick.

Fighting down the urge to glance at Dean.

“Your friend,” replied Mick, confirming Castiel’s hypothesis. “I wasn’t sure of the nature of your relationship, so I thought it best to wait. Even if it would have been well-meant, I wanted to avoid an awkward situation.”

Castiel had to laugh at that one.

“But then, as you pointed out, the maid of honor made her move. I figured I was in the clear to at least try.” He paused a moment and then added, “Was I wrong in my assessment or…”

“No. You were correct. Dean is my—only my friend.”

And Mick seemed relieved at this information.

And Castiel pursued his conversation with him.

And it turned out to be not as awkward as he had initially feared. Mick was evidently a sharp man. An intellectual. Something that appealed immensely to Castiel. But for some reason, Castiel also believed that he had a bit of edge to him. A dark undertone. Even if nothing he had said nor his personality could have conveyed it.

It wasn’t displeasing or worrisome, but simply a detail—or impression—that Castiel had noticed.

But he liked him and felt very at ease with him.

And yet, as Castiel was listening to him explaining what being a company man for _Kendricks_ consisted of, Castiel, despite his best effort to remain focused on the gorgeous man before him, found himself involuntarily glancing in Dean’s direction. It appeared that both he and Charlie were no longer seated at their table. Scanning the room quickly, he couldn’t see Charlie anywhere. Dean, on the other hand, was standing near the booths, flirting with a tall brunette wearing a mini-skirt.

“Castiel?”

Shifting back his stare on Mick, he said, “Sorry. Just wanted to keep track of my friends. But I’m listening. You were talking about your questionable colleague. Ketch?”

“I was, yes.” He then paused, studying Castiel a moment. He twisted his glass between his fingers. “You—I wasn’t wrong before, was I? When I deduced there was something between you and your friend.”

“No, there’s nothing,” protested Castiel. “I—we’re not together. In any way. We—just friends.”

“But you’d like to be more than that, wouldn’t you?”

“No. I—it’s not like that.” And while the overall tone of his statement might have been believable, the fact that it had taken him slightly longer to answer than it should have, somewhat contradicted his words. Castiel lowered his eyes, as he leaned on the counter, feeling defeated. He grabbed his drink and gulped it down. Nearly coughing, he shifted on his seat. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, glancing at Mick. “I didn’t mean to lie. Or to waste your time. I—I really do appreciate your company. And I wish I could just…”

“You like him.”

Castiel nodded.

“But he doesn’t?”

“Not like that. Well, he—he doesn’t know.”

“And why is that?”

“I—we don’t—you don’t have to be nice or hear my sad story here…”

“I’m actually intrigued. You obviously get along. And like I said, I did see something. Not just from you. It was from the both of you.”

Castiel shook his head. “I—I don’t know about that. I doubt it.”

Dean was grinning at the same brunette.

Which made Castiel’s heart feel as heavy as on Sunday mornings.

“I think I should leave.” He stood up from his seat and eyed his coat still resting on his chair.

“And what about your friend?” asked Mick.

“I think he’s busy right now. I’ll send him a text once I’m back home just to let him know. Though, I don’t think it will really matter.”

“May I see you out? Just to say goodbye,” Mick added, as a reassurance.

“All right.”

And a few minutes later, with their coats on, they exited the pub, without a look in Dean’s direction.

Castiel inhaled a large intake of fresh air and realized in that moment how suffocating he had felt in that pub.

A cab nearly manifested itself in front of them and Mick opened the door for Castiel.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. And here,” he said, handing him a business card. “I’m just giving you this in case you change your mind in the future. Or even if you just want to talk. Is that all right?”

“Of course. Thank you,” said Castiel, placing the card in his wallet. “I’d give you mine, but I don’t have one. You do know where to find me, however.”

“At _The Seraph_ bookstore on Pontiac Street.”

“That’s the one.”

And before Castiel entered the cab, Mick said, “I do wish that things work out for you.”

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

And after an awkward goodbye, yet warm enough, Castiel took his seat, Mick shut the door behind him, and Castiel headed back home.

On his arrival, Castiel let out a sigh. He jumped in the shower. He changed himself quickly.

And was ready to forget the whole night.

But he was still left with the gruesome task of sending Dean a proper text message.

He had to let him know he was no longer at the pub, just in case Dean was looking for him. Fat chance of that, thought Castiel.

The main problem with this was that stating he had returned home would most likely bring questions. And even though Dean was occupied at the moment, a little too much for an inquiry, he probably would follow through with the interrogation process on the following day.

Castiel had no desire to lie, but he certainly wasn’t planning on telling the whole truth, either. And stating _why_ he had wished to come back home would definitely lead to that.

So, he kept it simple.

Castiel: Just letting you know I left the pub.

Unsure if his message conveyed exactly what he wanted to say, he nonetheless left it at that. He was tempted to add, “Hope you have a nice evening,” which was the truth no matter what, but decided it might be a little too much and would only end up sounding weird.

He put his phone away and settled down in his bed with a good book. Past midnight, when he finally called it a night and shut the light off, he looked at his phone. Still no messages from Dean.

He desperately tried to not let his mind wonder on what Dean was up to in that specific moment.

He dreaded hearing the door unlocking, followed by a slight commotion and giggles.

This had been difficult before, but now, just thinking about the upcoming possibility was torturous. Castiel turned himself on his side, sighed deeply, and prayed he wouldn’t hear anything.

The good news was that he in fact did not hear anything. And he wasn’t woken up by Dean’s late return to the apartment. Nor by a drunken text letting him know of his whereabouts.

The bad news was that Castiel realized Dean hadn’t come back home by the time he woke up on Saturday morning, and before panic set in his chest—worrying if something had gone wrong like on the previous week—he saw one text message that Dean had sent him, well past one in the morning.

Dean: Got it! And don’t expect me home tonight ;)

And Castiel decided that the time when Dean would simply leave him vague post-it was far better than incredibly late texts on a night out.


	6. Chapter Six: Pizzas and Chats

The next few days were awkward for Castiel. While Dean hadn’t brought anyone home on the Saturday following their night at the pub, which had brought some comfort to Castiel, Dean hadn’t returned home, either. This wasn’t exactly a shocking turn of events, but it had nonetheless left Castiel in a morose state for most of the week.

They also didn’t get to see much of each other since then. Only briefly on Saturday afternoon before Dean had left for work.

And just as Castiel had expected, Dean inquired about his night.

And just as he had planned, Castiel simply stated that he had enjoyed his evening and thanked him for having invited him to the pub.

Thankfully, Dean didn’t press for more questions than that, even though it was clear that he wished to do so, based on his mischievous smile and lifted eyebrow. But he simply nodded at him and left for work.

And nothing much had changed after that for the next few days.

Up until Thursday.

The day had felt long, and although Castiel had had all the intention in the world of hitting the gym after work, given the awful freezing rain outside, he decided to not bother on that night.

Even if the gym was literally on his way home and that it was a very short distance.

Instead, he decided to pre-order himself a pizza from _Donatello’s_. Knowing that it would be warm, delicious, and ready for him at the pizza joint right before going home was comforting.

Especially when he knew that Dean wouldn’t be there that night. Sam and Jessica had apparently invited Dean and Castiel for dinner. Due to work, however, Castiel hadn’t been able to attend.

Obviously.

So, Dean was to go on his own and had shared the strong possibility that he might spend the night there.

Which meant another lonely evening for Castiel.

But when he arrived at _Donatello’s_ , with his gym bag on his shoulder, he was granted a surprise.

Donatello dropped not one, but two pizza boxes on the counter. And a small extra bucket of chicken wings, as well as two medium boxes containing other appetizers.

Castiel, puzzled, grabbed the invoice to have a better look. “Donatello, I think you made a mistake. I only ordered a pizza. _One pizza_. With mushrooms and—”

“It’s all there. I know your weird tastes, Cas. That’s the one,” he said, tapping on the first box. “The other pizza is not for you. It’s your roommate’s.”

“What? But—but Dean isn’t here tonight.”

“Well, he ordered it half an hour ago. He was gonna pick it up himself, but I told him to stay put as you were already planning on picking yours up just before closing. I figured you wouldn’t mind because of his shoulder injury and all,” added Donatello, suddenly rethinking his decision.

“Of course. I don’t mind at all. I’m just—I wasn’t expecting that. What do I owe you? I’ll take care of Dean’s too.”

“No need. Everything is paid,” he said, pushing the boxes towards Castiel. “Dean already took care of it. Even yours. And this,” he said, pointing at the bucket and the other boxes of appetizers, “is from me to you both. I hope Dean feels better.”

Mildly stunned, Castiel put his wallet away. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to let Dean know.”

“Good night, Castiel.”

“Good night.”

“Thank GOD!” Dean yelled the second Castiel opened the door. “I’m starving.” Dean muted the television and headed towards the door to meet him. “I hope you didn’t mind grabbing mine too. It was Donatello’s idea.”

Even though Donatello had told him so, Castiel was still very surprised to find Dean at home waiting for him.

And since his plans had been to shamelessly wallow in his sweat pants, away from prying eyes, he suddenly felt a mild panic spread in his chest.

Now, it appeared that his night had turned into an evening with Dean.

 _Alone_ with Dean.

In his pajamas.

Stuffing his face with food.

And stressing about what he might say.

Of what might happen.

As the evening was now offering an opportunity.

Then again, when he remembered their previous weekend, he told himself that he was being ridiculous.

“There’s no problem,” said Castiel.

And soon enough, once Castiel’s gym bag was on the floor and he had been freed of his winter attire, they were both seated at the table, eager to begin feasting on their meal.

“What are you doing here?” asked Castiel, opening his box. “I thought you were at Sam’s tonight?”

“The stupid weather. And _me_? What about you? That’s an early turn up for you. I thought Donatello was feeding me some random story when I called.”

“The weather was the culprit as well,” said Castiel. “And today was just—anyway, I just felt like coming home early tonight.”

“Well, I’m glad. Now, I get to _not_ eat a whole pizza on my own. Because I’m told that’s shameful.”

“I was about to do it too. So, I suppose your secret safe with me.”

They helped themselves to some of the appetizers, which consisted of cheese sticks—regular and Jalapeño ones—lemon and pepper chicken wings, sweet potato fries and garlic bread.

“I think we’re set for the night. And next week.”

Castiel chuckled. “We just have to put it in the fridge and keep it for later.” But as he started piling up the small boxes, Dean laid his hand flat on the box of cheese sticks and said, “If you want to put the other ones away, fine. But this one stays here. I need it. Emotionally.”

“We’ll all leave them here, then,” said Castiel, laughing, as he took his seat back. “Bad day?” he asked.

“Boring one,” specified Dean. He took a bite of pizza, opened the cheese sticks box, and smiled at the sight. Which made Castiel grin in turn. But when he realized what he was doing, he straightened his expression and focused his attention to his own pizza.

After his third cheese stick, Dean observed Castiel and said, “Okay, I gotta ask. What kind of pizza is that?”

Castiel froze. “I’m told I’m weird.”

“Uh-huh. I’m still waiting for an answer.”

He took a deep breath. “It’s with pesto chicken. Extra cheese. Mushroom and zucchinis. Bacon on one side only. Italian spices. Thin crust. And, um, the sauce is Alfredo.”

Dean stared at him.

“You can have a slice if you want.”

Dean shoved the last bit of his cheese stick in his mouth and said, grinning, “Oh, hell yes. That I have to taste.”

“What’s yours?”

“Meat lover. With extra bacon,” said Dean proudly as he slid a slice into Castiel’s box without hesitation.

He then reached for one of Castiel’s slices and observed it a moment, as though he was taking it in. And after one last look at Castiel, who was waiting for him to taste it, amused at Dean’s curiosity, Dean took a big mouthful.

And chewed on it for a long time.

Only to devour the slice.

“And?”

Lifting an eyebrow, Dean said, “Don’t get me wrong, I prefer sticking to the classic, but…actually, this is kinda awesome. I might steal another slice later on.”

“Glad you approve.”

“All right, now, what were we talking about before I got distracted by your super weird—though delicious—pizza?”

“That you were bored at work?” suggested Castiel, finishing up on the slice Dean had given him.

“Right. Boring. Really boring. The kind of boring that slowly drives you nuts.”

“How come? I thought you were really happy last week to go back to work.”

“I was. _I am_ ,” admitted Dean. “I was relieved I wouldn’t have to look at these walls anymore, you know. I thought even if my tasks would be limited at work, at least I would be out of the apartment.”

Castiel nodded. With his eyes still on Dean to let him know he was still listening to him, he made his way to the fridge and opened the door. “What happened, then?”

“Well, as you know, I can’t really handle heavy lifting or any of that. There is some stuff I can definitely do, but…I’d have to have someone assist me and then it just becomes two people doing one person’s job. Which is pointless.”

He nodded at Castiel’s silent suggestion of beers, which he had retrieved from the fridge.

“Surely there are other things you could do in the meantime, no?”

“Yeah. Reception duty. Ish. And inventory and other stuff. Paperwork. Digitized, but still.” Dean took a big swig of his beer after Castiel had opened both bottles. “I know Bobby means well and if it’s not that, then it means I’m back here doing nothing. At least I’m on the payroll, but I—” he took a deep breath. “Even if Bobby doesn’t run out of random stuff to throw at me, just being there and not being able to do _my_ work, I’m wondering if it’s worse.”

“Maybe you could work somewhere else for the next few weeks just to give your shoulder time to properly heal. That way you’ll still be out of the apartment.”

“That’s what Bobby and Sam said too, but do you know anyone who would hire somebody who is very limited in what they can do just for a few weeks?”

“I’m sure we could find something. But given how reluctant you already are about paperwork, I admit it might be tricky,” said Castiel, looking Dean straight in the eye.

Dean leaned his head backwards, tilting it slightly to the side, studying Castiel for a moment.

“Is this your way of telling me that I should just suck it up and quit whining?” said Dean with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Just to be clear, I didn’t say that. _You_ said that.” And then he nonchalantly helped himself to another slice of pizza.

“Okay. Didn’t see that one coming, but fair enough.”

And without asking, Dean grabbed one of Castiel’s slices and continued eating with a smirk on his face.

“What about you? How’s the week been for you so far?” he asked Castiel.

“Nothing exciting. New work schedule over the weekend, though. That’s about it.”

“What? Not Friday night, right?” The worry in Dean’s voice made Castiel think that Dean was hoping to repeat their last Friday.

And while it hadn’t been as a complete disaster as Castiel had expected, it hadn’t been a triumphant evening, either.

Which was why he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to relive the experience right away.

It also was why when one of his co-workers had requested to switch shifts in order for them to attend the wedding anniversary of their grandparents, Castiel had been very eager to accept, grateful that he now had a good excuse to pass on the task of being a wingman.

“It’s Friday and Saturday, actually.”

“What! No,” groaned Dean. “What about after work? You’re usually a night owl. Maybe you could still join us after that? One drink at least?”

Holding his stare, Castiel paused a short moment. “I’m supposed to believe you’ll still be at the pub by the time I show up?”

His voice had been even and without a reproachful tone to it. He had said it as casually as he could have.

Dean, most likely debating if Castiel was making fun of him or not, stared at him for a short while, only to suddenly grin at him and say, “Well, you kinda got me there.”

“I have no doubt that you’ll do just fine without me.”

Focusing on their pizzas, they remained silent for a few minutes.

“Still,” said Dean finally, “I think you would have enjoyed Friday night considering what I had planned for us.”

“Which was what?”

His mouth opened, ready to blurt out the answer. But whatever it was, Dean kept it to himself as he bit on his lips and lowered his eyes, fixating on his food.

The air seemed to have instantly shifted into something else. And with Dean’s silence, Castiel was becoming more and more anxious, as he repeated Dean’s words in his mind.

Thinking of what else he could have meant.

Desperately trying to not misunderstand it.

“Dean?”

It took him a few seconds, but when Dean finally lifted his gaze again, it was accompanied with a shy expression.

Almost serious.

“Guess I’ll have to hold off to tell you until you’re free.”

Castiel stopped chewing.

And held his breath.

And just as Castiel was wondering if he had heard him properly, Dean then said, “In the meantime though, I guess I’ll have to temporarily go back to my solo act this weekend. So, as always, don’t wait up.” And with a cocky smile, he returned to his pizza.

Feeling a pang in his chest at Dean’s words, Castiel let out a fake and awkward laugh.

Making him almost rethink his housing options.

Once upon a time, maybe Castiel had thought that the prospect of being Dean’s roommate was a pleasant idea. But now, considering that simply spending time with Dean was causing him emotional pain, Castiel wasn’t so sure that was the case anymore.

Unfortunately for Castiel, Friday had not been an improvement from the rest of his week. From the moment he opened his eyes in the morning, he knew that the best option for everyone would simply be for him to stay in bed and sleep the whole day through.

To avoid all the annoying, aggravating things.

But of course, that was wishful thinking.

The day was moving at an excruciating slow pace and nothing seemed satisfying to him. Nearly every customer was in a mood, making him wish to not have to deal with people at all. And then the moment the store would become empty, he would be annoyed at being bored out of his skull.

All he wanted was to run back home, bury himself under his blankets and just forget about everything.

Of course, this idea brought its own problem, mainly because, once back at home, he couldn’t avoid Dean.

And avoiding Dean was exactly what Castiel was planning on doing from now on. Even though he had reasoned that his idea of moving out had simply been a momentary freak out on his part, he had caught himself contemplating the idea during most of the day. And with the weekend beginning in a few hours, the dread of Sunday morning was enough to nearly make Castiel’s hands shake.

Which had been why, in a moment of weakness during his afternoon break, he texted Gabriel and Balthazar to casually inquire if they had given any thought to returning to Chicago any time soon. And he let out a deep sigh when both of their answers were “No.”

Gabriel: Why do you ask?

Balthazar: Do you miss me?

Gabriel: Wow. Just you? What am I?

Castiel: Of course, I miss you both. More than you might know. Especially right now.

Castiel: But I was just asking.

Gabriel: Uh-huh.

Balthazar: Any reason in particular?

Castiel: Just wondering when you’d be around.

Balthazar: Because?

Castiel pursed his lips. It appeared that he was far more transparent than he had intended. And knowing that neither of his friends would let the matter drop, he shifted on his seat and continued typing.

Castiel: Because if either of you

Castiel: Or both

Castiel: Were planning on coming back soon, I wanted to mention that I might be interested in moving in with you guys.

Castiel: If you want.

Gabriel: One, I certainly wouldn’t have a problem with that.

Gabriel: In fact, if I were planning on coming back any time soon, let’s face it, I would probably nag you to death to move in with me.

Balthazar: He would.

Balthazar: And same.

Gabriel: But two, I’m confused.

Gabriel: What’s wrong with the apartment you’ve got now?

Gabriel: Did something happen?

Gabriel: I thought you liked the place.

Gabriel: And that Dean was cool too.

Gabriel: ???

Balthazar: I knew it!

Balthazar: It’s because Dean’s good-looking, isn’t it?

Balthazar: You thought you were playing it cool and it wouldn’t be an issue, but I know you.

Balthazar: I knew you’d be tempted, and typical of you, you wouldn’t want to do anything about it.

Balthazar: Because, practical.

Unfortunately, everything Balthazar was saying was true. He had warned Castiel of this outcome, and just as predicted, here he was, in that very predicament.

Gabriel: Hold up.

Gabriel: Good-looking? How do you know? Cas told you or…

Balthazar: He sent me a picture.

Gabriel: What?!

Castiel: Guys.

Gabriel: How come I didn’t know this? You didn’t tell me this.

Gabriel: Why didn’t I get a picture?

Gabriel: I need to see a picture.

Castiel: I only sent it to Balthazar because he had asked.

Castiel: Which I regretted.

Castiel: And am obviously still regretting.

Gabriel: And I STILL need to see a picture.

Castiel: No, you don’t.

Balthazar: Oops. Just sent it to him.

Castiel: HOW?

Balthazar: I still had the one you had sent me stored in my phone.

Castiel: Why?

Castiel: Ew. On second thought, don’t tell me.

Gabriel: WELL NOW.

Gabriel: *lifts eyebrows*

Gabriel: Good-looking, you say?

Gabriel: Pretty sure that’s an understatement.

Gabriel: I still don’t understand how I didn’t know about this.

Gabriel: But more importantly

Gabriel: I don’t understand what’s the problem. You want to leave this specimen?

Gabriel: Because?

Balthazar: Because Cas is being Cas. And now, he’s probably piling up a mountain of excuses to not climb him already.

Gabriel: AND WHY NOT?

Balthazar: That’s my question as well.

Gabriel: Are you back with Hannah?

Castiel: No.

Castiel: Of course, not.

Balthazar: Are you planning on going back with her?

Castiel: No.

Castiel: This has nothing to do with her.

Gabriel: Then answer the question. Why do you want to move out?

Gabriel: And why aren’t you trying anything with handsome roommie?

Castiel sighed as he leaned in his seat, regretting having mentioned the problem at all.

Aware that simply putting his phone away would in no way make his friends stop harassing him with questions, however, nor would it solve anything for him either, he resolved himself to answer truthfully.

And that required him to ponder on the matter for an instant.

Castiel: Because it’s like Balthazar said.

Castiel: I like Dean.

Castiel: Right now, when nothing is even happening, I’m not really enjoying seeing all his…

Castiel: Let’s call them his dates for the sake of the argument.

Castiel: The point is that it sucks now.

Castiel: And even if something ends up happening between us, casual seems to be his speed.

Castiel: How the hell am I supposed to deal with being casual when I can barely handle what’s happening right now?

Castiel: Which is nothing, by the way.

Castiel: No matter what, I feel like it’s just gonna screw everything up.

Castiel: And since I don’t think this feeling will vanish anytime soon, I think moving out might be helpful.

There was a long pause.

Long enough to make Castiel wonder if Gabriel and Balthazar were having their own deliberation between themselves before coming back to him with a verdict.

Gabriel: I have a question.

Castiel: What?

Gabriel: If you’d moved out today

Gabriel: Let’s say you’re out of this apartment. You have your own place or you’re sharing with someone else that you also get along with, but there’s no weirdness or whatever.

Castiel: Okay.

Gabriel: What are you going to do about Dean, then?

Castiel: What do you mean?

Gabriel: Are you gonna ask him out?

Gabriel: Tell him the real reason why you moved out?

Gabriel: Date him?

Gabriel: Or are you just not gonna do nothing about it?

Gabriel: Move out. And like avoid him?

Gabriel: Because I think you’re wrong.

Castiel: Yes, thank you. That was obvious.

Gabriel: No, I mean about Hannah. You say it’s not about her, but in some ways, I think it is.

That comment had thrown Castiel for a loop.

As he genuinely believed that it had nothing whatsoever to do with her.

This was about Dean.

Obviously.

How could it be about her when they hadn’t even been together for nearly two months now.

More if he was being honest.

Castiel: Um, Gabe, I don’t know what you mean.

Gabriel: I know you said Dean isn’t into serious stuff.

Balthazar: And the way you talk, it seems that’s what you want. Serious.

Gabriel: But as far as I know, you haven’t asked him, though. Right?

Castiel: Right.

Castiel: The evidence is rather clear, however.

Castiel: And I still don’t understand what this has to do with Hannah.

Gabriel: Isn’t it how you two started? And ended?

Castiel: I am completely lost.

Castiel: No, it wasn’t.

Castiel: On either account.

Balthazar: Didn’t you move in with her really early on in the relationship?

Gabriel: Like not even a month in?

Castiel: But we already knew each other. For almost a whole year before that. And

Castiel stopped typing. Suddenly realizing what his friends were getting at.

Balthazar: And what?

Gabriel: Cas?

Gabriel: What you want to say is

Gabriel: AND that your living arrangement was supposed to be temporary.

Gabriel: And done for practicality.

Gabriel: The housing, not the relationship.

Gabriel: But that’s what it was, right?

Balthazar: I really don’t want to sound like an arsshole here. You have to know, Hannah was great, and I honestly don’t have anything against her.

Castiel: But.

Balthazar: But…

Balthazar: I think you liked Hannah, that was obvious, but I’m not sure it was for the right reason.

Castiel: Are you insinuating I was using her?

Balthazar: Bloody hell, no!

Balthazar: Cas, no.

Balthazar: That’s not that at all.

Balthazar: But I think you were both comfortable enough with each other that it made you both ignore the fact that what you had kinda stalled. It’s like you skipped a bunch of stuff, and decided you were there and that was it.

Gabriel: Now, if both of you were satisfied with this situation, and that’s what you both wanted out of each other, then it wouldn’t have been a problem. Everyone is entitled to define what they want in their relationship.

Gabriel: But I don’t think that’s what either of you wanted.

Gabriel: I certainly know that’s not what you wanted.

Balthazar: You never voiced it, but it was obvious.

Castiel: How? How was it obvious?

Balthazar: Are we wrong?

Castiel: No.

Castiel: But I still want to know.

Balthazar: Your face whenever we talked about our next trip. A road trip or

Balthazar: Anything. You seemed so disappointed to miss the opportunity.

Balthazar: Not out of jealousy. 

Balthazar: Just

Balthazar: You could have still come with us, dating Hannah or not, but for some reason you convinced yourself that you couldn’t.

Gabriel: And what I was trying to get at earlier was that I think you’re afraid that, in some weird way, you’ll just end up repeating with Dean what happened with Hannah.

Gabriel: You’re living with him because it was the practical choice. Based on finances and location.

Gabriel: And you like living with him because you get along.

Gabriel: But now that the situation is changing, that this might take a domestic turn, one you wanted to avoid, your brain automatically brings you to how it ended.

Gabriel: That it DID end.

Gabriel: I’m not saying that being casual or not isn’t the problem. It’s obviously something you should discuss and then go from there.

Gabriel: But I don’t think that’s the real reason why you’re hesitating.

Castiel wasn’t sure what he was more astonished about. The fact that he hadn’t made that connection at all or the fact that Gabriel and Balthazar, chilling on their respective continents, had managed to figure it all out anyway.

Castiel: Okay. Let’s say you’re right.

Castiel: Because you probably are.

Castiel: What the fuck am I supposed to do, now?

Castiel: I don’t want to repeat what happened with Hannah.

Castiel: So, if I stay there, I get to either suffer in silence while I admire the pile of conquests Dean is rolling to his bed.

Castiel: Which I really don’t want.

Castiel: Or I try with Dean, and whatever happens, I will most likely end up needing a new place to stay.

Castiel: The other option is to leave and then I….

Castiel: Leave to date him?

Castiel: Assuming he’s interested.

Castiel: And that’s a big if.

Castiel: And kind of ridiculous when you think about it.

Balthazar: I think you’re forgetting one important detail.

Castiel: What’s that?

Gabriel: That Dean isn’t Hannah.

Gabriel: That’s what you wanted to say, right?

Balthazar: Yes. Lol.

Castiel: Which means what?

Gabriel: What I said, about the situations being similar, it wasn’t to discourage you to try with Dean.

Gabriel: It was to make you understand why you are being stubborn about it.

Gabriel: There are similarities.

Balthazar: But it’s bloody not the same, either.

Balthazar: And again, really don’t want to sound like an arsehole, but given the strong reaction you’re having to your problem, I think your feelings towards the bloke are already very different from the lass.

And while he had found some form of comfort in his friends’ words, Castiel still felt incredibly confused on how to proceed from that point on.

His break being over, he thanked his friends for the chat and informed them that he would get back to them later on.

They both said they would check up on him and promised to be on the lookout for another place in case it would become a pressing issue.

This small ease in Castiel’s mind was extremely short-lived. As the hours of Friday night passed, without meaning to, Castiel was keeping track of Dean’s schedule.

Helping a customer find a book about Greek mythology, while knowing Dean must be almost finished with his first beer.

Restacking the front shelves of new releases, as Dean must be whispering sweet nothings into someone’s ear.

Emptying the new order boxes that had finally come in late afternoon, the one that had been expected over a week ago.

During which Dean was most likely leaving the pub and—

“Cas?”

Frightened by the sudden appearance of his co-worker, Anna, Castiel lost his grip and the books he had been holding dropped all over the floor.

She hurried to his side and helped him restack them on the table.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No worries. My mind is elsewhere today. What were you saying?”

“Someone is here asking for you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. He said you had mentioned this was the place to find you.”

Mick Davies.

Castiel smiled shyly.

“He seems nice,” said Anna. “I can take care of this while you go talk to him. And, um, we’re almost closing, so…you know, take your time. No one else is out there.”

“Thank you, Anna.”

Castiel wasn’t particularly convinced that speaking to Mick was a good idea, given how his day—week—had gone. But since he had taken the trouble to come all the way down here just to say hello, Castiel figured that it had certainly warranted a chat.

And he kept telling himself so, on his way to the front of the store.

The only problem was that it wasn’t Mick Davies who was waiting for him.

It was Dean.

“Hey, Cas.” Standing next to the bargain section, he replaced the book he was holding on the shelf and took a few steps towards him.

“This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

“I was bored at home. You said you were working tonight and I’ve never been here before. So, I thought I’d pop in and say hey.”

“At nearly ten o’clock at night? On a Friday? Weren’t you going out?”

“Changed my mind.” He shifted on his feet and said, “Is it okay that I’m here or…”

“Yes, of course. I’m—I simply wasn’t expecting you. But the store is about to close.”

Dean looked around. “Oh,” he said, once he noticed how empty the place was.

“I just need to finish with—but it shouldn’t take long. I’ll be able to leave shortly if you don’t mind waiting a little.”

“Awesome. And I’ll walk you home,” he said with a cocky smile.


	7. Chapter Seven: Misunderstandings

Curious to witness Castiel’s night routine, Dean accepted to stop at the coffee shop across the street from the bookstore, the one where Castiel often brought back a cup of herbal tea, especially in winter, to warm himself up before returning home.

While they waited for their order, Castiel asked him what he had been up to this evening, since he hadn’t gone out as he had intended to.

“Don’t laugh, but I was watching _ER_.”

“Ah-HA.”

“It’s your fault. Now I’m addicted to this.”

“How is this my fault? It was your idea to watch it,” said Castiel, grinning at him. “Where are you at now?”

“Season three.”

“What? We hadn’t even reached half of season one when—you cheated!” he said, laughing wholeheartedly at the sight of Dean lowering his head in guilt.

“I know. I’m sorry. I know I said I’d wait, but then, I was stuck at home doing nothing because of my shoulder. And it was, like, _calling_ to me.”

Castiel snorted. “It’s fine. I had told you to carry on if you wanted to.”

“Yeah, but it was my idea to watch it together.”

“Well, at least, I know what happens, so it’s not too bad. And we can definitely watch a few tonight if you want.”

“PLEASE. I’ve been trying to spare myself the last few days. Like, I legit stalled myself over it.”

“No need. You are hereby relieved of this guilt,” Castiel said with a graceful hand wave.

“Thank you.”

The rest of the walk was short, but pleasant. Dean told Castiel which episode he had left off, wanting to help Castiel situate himself in the storyline, and began rambling about the show with intensity, which Castiel thought was rather a funny spectacle to witness.

Once home, while Dean gathered additional snacks for them to share, Castiel took the liberty of pouring Dean's beverage from the coffee shop into his batman mug, and did the same with his own drink and his yellow "Bee Happy" mug too.

They finished the episode Dean had begun, relaxing and enjoying their quiet time together.

Knowing that neither of them had any early plans the next day, they decided to continue with another episode.

And even though nothing was awkward, per se, as they mostly just sat there watching the television, Castiel couldn’t help but feel like something was in the air. Not unlike that brief moment during their last marathon. Or their pizza meal.

But then again, considering how those evenings had turned out, he decided to not pay attention to it that much.

When the episode ended and they needed to change the disc, however, it offered them the opportunity to consider calling it a night or not.

Both of them agreed that they were still awake and weren’t opposed to continuing.

But just as Castiel was about to get off the couch to set up the next disc, Dean said, “We can just talk too, if you want.”

“All right.” Castiel repositioned himself. “About what?”

Dean hesitated and then said, “I—I know we’ve discussed this already, but can you tell me what I said to you at the hospital?”

Castiel swallowed.

“It’s just—” Dean cleared his throat, “I still don’t understand how I don’t remember it. I remember being at the hospital. The nurse. Doctor. Waiting in that hospital bed and the god-awful aching pain in my shoulder. The kind that almost reached down to your toes. I remember you being there, talking to the nurse and—but I don’t remember _that_.”

“It’s okay if you don’t remember too, Dean. It wasn’t important, anyway.”

“But how do I know that?”

“What?”

“How do I know it wasn’t important if I don’t know what I said?”

Castiel shifted a little. “Well, I know you were just kidding around. As you told me. And I—I think that the fact that you don’t remember is probably a big indication that it wasn’t that important.”

“But can you still tell me? Please?”

Biting hard on his lips, Castiel felt his heart racing. He couldn’t see how telling Dean this information would not result in having the very conversation he was trying to steer clear of.

He didn’t wish to lie.

But he also did not feel ready to tackle this subject, either.

“Cas? Is—what did I say?”

“It’s like I told you before. You just—you were simply teasing me.”

“About?”

Aware that it was probably a dead giveaway, Castiel nonetheless made sure to look in front of him, instead of staring at Dean when he answered.

“When the nurse arrived, she asked me who I was. She thought I was Sam at first. And when I was about to tell her I was your roommate, you—jokingly—you told her I was your boyfriend.”

Silence.

“I tried to correct you, but you thought it was funny so you continued. You were just trying to make me calm down. ‘To lighten the mood,’ as you said, so I would stop worrying. And you were right. I was worried and I needed to calm down. That’s really all there was to it.”

There was a short pause.

“And that’s all I said?”

“You might have let slip one or two compliments, here and there,” said Castiel, smirking.

“Like about your eyes? Like the serenade you talked about?”

“Sort of, yes.”

Dean nodded.

“Any more questions?” asked Castiel, hoping his voice hadn’t wavered.

“A few, yes. But…I think we need another vibe for that.”

“Which means?”

“How do you feel about upgrading our drinks to whiskey?”

Castiel stared at him.

“I have just enough for each of us to have a drink, if you want.”

“Saving it for a special occasion?” Castiel said teasingly, remembering Sam’s comment regarding Dean’s stash.

“I was, actually. And I think we’re finally here.”

Castiel studied Dean with attention. His expression was serious, but warm. And his gaze was not diverting from Castiel’s eyes for one moment.

Given how he had often misunderstood certain situations such as this one in the past—including certain instances with Dean—Castiel wasn’t sure what to think.

Roommate.

Pub.

Sweetheart.

Hannah.

Mick.

Dean.

Between his earlier chat with his friends and Dean offering him a drink, Castiel had no idea what to make of it all.

And being put on the spot was not helping his situation.

Trying to not lose his composure, and reminding himself to not immediately draw conclusions—no matter how hopeful they might appear—Castiel decided that accepting one drink wasn’t implying anything and that there wasn’t any harm in it.

“Count me in, then.”

As Dean headed to the kitchen to take care of the drinks, Castiel excused himself for a short bathroom break, during which he also took the opportunity to fix his hair and clothes. And made sure he wasn’t smelling like perspiration. Or that something was stuck in his teeth.

Once he figured that he had done all he could to improve his appearance, he sighed and turned the door handle.

Stepping out of the washroom, however, Castiel was startled when he nearly ran into Dean.

He let out a small, nervous laugh.

And so did Dean, standing still in front of him.

But something was wrong. His smile was fake and he kept averting his eyes.

“Dean? Everything okay?” He noticed that Dean was only holding his phone. No drinks. “Do you need help reaching the bottle?”

“What? Oh, um, no. I—I, actually, rain check? I’m gonna call it a night,” he said, pointing at his door, down the hall.

“What?”

“Yeah. Um, I—my shoulder is killing me today, so I think that’s it for me.” He gave him a faint smile.

An awkward, fake and faint smile.

And still avoided his eyes at every chance he got, as he shifted on his feet.

And that was when Castiel realized that he hadn’t even been waiting by the door for him. No. Castiel had simply caught him on his way to his bedroom. Where he would have sneaked out on him without a word.

“Is everything okay?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Just tired. So, um, good night.” And before Castiel could reply, Dean headed to his bedroom.

But as he walked by Castiel, Dean froze when his phone buzzed.

“Oh. Um, sorry, that’s yours.” He handed him his phone. “You should get that. Someone is trying to reach you.”

And although Castiel was confused about the whole situation, what troubled him the most in that moment was the distinct note of pain in Dean’s voice. ~~~~

He watched him reach his bedroom and shut the door behind him.

And then he heard the lock.

His phone buzzed again. Five text messages. All coming from a number he wasn’t familiar with.

And then, when he scrolled up to the first notification, he saw it.

Unknown: Hey. Ephraim, here, to put you out of your misery. Gabe told me you were looking for another place to stay because you have a problem with your roommate?

Castiel glanced at Dean’s door in horror.

“Fuck.”

After a short hesitation, mostly due to panic, Castiel attempted to explain the situation to Dean. And this, very reluctantly as it would no doubt bring another topic into the conversation. Particularly the one Castiel was desperate to avoid as always.

His worry concerning said topic, however, turned out to be pointless, as Dean was determined to ignore him all together.

Castiel had knocked on his door. He had called his name through the door. Called him on his phone, even. Texted him.

But no answer.

Nothing.

And while Dean had claimed to have been exhausted, Castiel doubted very much that he had managed to fall into such a deep sleep, in the less-than-a-minute time it had taken him to reach his bed and Castiel to knock on his door, that he couldn’t hear him.

So, cursing the skies, Castiel walked away and let him be. He shut off the television, quickly picked up the mugs they had been using and left them in the sink. And after one last glance at Dean’s door, Castiel found the post-it pad Dean had been using by the microwave and wrote, “Please, text me back. I need to tell you something. It’s important.”

He left the note on the coffee machine, certain Dean wouldn’t miss it the next morning.

But that remained unclear. After a long, horrible night, Castiel woke up late in the morning.

With no Dean in the apartment.

With the coffee machine untouched.

And no new texts from Dean.

Or calls.

Or notes.

Castiel sent him a quick text, simply reminding him that he would appreciate a call when he had a moment, even though he was convinced that it wouldn’t change anything.

Furious with himself, Castiel was almost tempted to call Sam and inquire of his brother’s whereabouts.

But he figured that, sooner or later, Dean would have to return to the apartment. And perhaps that, by that time, if Castiel was lucky enough, Dean would be more inclined to listen to what he had to say, instead of simply dismissing him.

That being said, Castiel grew disappointed that he still hadn’t heard from him by mid-afternoon, which was when Castiel had to leave for his shift. He tried him once more, and as he arrived at the bookstore, he finally got an answer.

Dean: Hey. You wanted to talk to me?

Castiel: Yes. I have to explain the text.

Dean: What text?

Castiel pursed his lips at Dean’s obstinacy.

Castiel: My shift ends at the same time as last night. I’ll head straight home afterwards. Can we talk then?

Dean: Can’t. Going out tonight.

Dean: Hope that’s not like

Dean: A problem.

And Castiel shut his eyes as he felt his stomach drop. And before he could answer back, he felt his phone buzz.

Dean: I’ll probably be too late for that tonight. So, unless you want to tell me what you’re talking about right now, then you’ll have to wait.

Castiel: I guess I’ll wait then.

Dean: Guess so.

And with that, the rest of his day was even worse than the previous one. If that was possible.

He returned home slowly, with great apprehension of finding Dean entertaining guests.

 _A guest_.

But the place was dark, quiet and empty.

A faint aroma of Dean’s body wash and aftershave still hung in the air, as though he had just taken his shower not even ten minutes ago.

And sure enough, after a quick look into the bathroom, where he could sense the humidity in the room, and assessed that the bathmat and shower curtain were damp, Castiel knew exactly where Dean had gone.

To the pub, searching for his next one-night stand.

Feeling his throat tightening, he swallowed hard, and not knowing what else to do, he carried on with his usual night routine.

Desperate to bury his pain.

He dropped his bag in his room. Undressed himself and took his shower. Made himself his favourite cup of tea. Did his usual bedtime yoga routine. Although, this time he had exceeded his typical five minutes.

He read a few chapters of his book, until he turned off his light and went to bed.

And finally, just as Castiel was thinking he was sinking dangerously into self-pity, he heard the front door unlock.

He sat up in his bed, listening.

A door closing.

Keys thrown onto the table.

Shuffling coat. And boots being tossed on the ground.

The leather of the couch squeaking.

Silence.

Unless Dean was planning on being crass, Castiel deduced that if he had brought someone home, they wouldn’t have stopped in the living room. They would have simply headed to Dean’s bedroom.

And the silence remained.

Which suggested that he was on his own.

But it wasn’t a guarantee.

Nevertheless, Castiel left his warm bed and slowly pushed his door open.

Dean was lying on his back, with his left arm resting on his chest, in the exact same position as though he was wearing a sling, while his right hand was rubbing his left upper arm.

Relieved that Dean was, indeed, by himself, Castiel gently advanced into the living room and froze when he heard Dean let out a small whine.

“Is your shoulder still bothering you?”

Dean lifted his head.

“Oh. You’re still up.”

“I wasn’t tired.” Unsure where to go from there, Castiel repeated his question.

“It’s fine.”

“Okay. Good.” He paused for a second. “And how was your evening?”

“Awesome.”

Which Castiel doubted very much as he had returned home earlier than usual, and alone.

“Look, Dean. I just want to clarify something about the text you saw last night. It won’t be long—”

“Uuuuuugh,” grunted Dean. “This again? Can we just forget about it? I get it. Message received. Literally,” he added, with a small laugh. “So, who cares anymore?”

Given his attitude, Castiel was ready to argue that Dean cared a whole lot, actually. But he judged that informing him of that fact would most likely not be the best way to handle this.

Then there was Dean’s current state to consider as well.

While Dean’s pronunciation wasn’t sloppy like that of a drunk, it was still obvious that he must have consumed a few beers.

At least.

And when Castiel realized this, he deduced that, as much as it was killing him, now was not the time to have this conversation.

So, he said gently, “You should know there’s more to that message than you think. But I understand you’re tired. So, I’ll explain tomorrow instead and say good night for now.”

He waited a few moments to see if Dean would comment, but when it was clear that he was planning on remaining quiet, Castiel turned on his heels and returned to his bedroom, only to calmly shut his door.

Pulling his covers, as he was about to get back into bed, he heard a strong knock on his door, right before it swung open.

Dean, stumbling on his feet, remained in the doorway.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“Dean, it’s not what you th—”

“Like, I get that you can’t stand me or whatever,” he continued, cutting him off, “even though, I really don’t know what I did, but—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! And I don’t—”

“ _But_ you were just planning on leaving without giving me notice? Or letting me know what bothered you before you start looking up places… like, really? Am I really that awful?”

His arms were crossed over his chest, and in spite of the fact that the room wasn’t properly lit, with the lighting of the street piercing through the bedroom window, Castiel could discern Dean’s hurt expression perfectly.

He let go of his covers and took a step forward. “Dean, I promise you are anything but awful. Far from it. And what I was trying to say about the text, was that it wasn’t solicited. My friend, Gabe, thought he was helping me out. I had simply asked this question hypothetically.”

“But that means you did mention that you have a problem with me,” he pointed out.

Castiel sighed, lowering his head.

“I never said—” he began saying, but stopped mid-sentence. Once again, he knew where this conversation was going, and given the tone and bad vibe between the two of them in that moment, Castiel felt like it was a bad idea, more than ever. He was convinced that if he spilled the beans about everything now, he would for sure have to call Ephraim in the morning and ask about the available room he was boasting about.

But before he could request that they discuss the matter in the morning again, Dean said, “I thought we were—I thought we were getting along.”

“We are.”

“Then why? Cas, obviously there’s something bothering you and I want to know. What did I do? Or—just tell me what’s the problem, so I can try to fix it. Or at least apologize to you if I’ve been shitty and I’m just too dumb to know what I did wrong.”

“Dean, stop,” Castiel snapped at him. “Don’t say that about—you didn’t do anything wrong. I told you.”

And Castiel remained silent, with the rest of his confession stuck in his throat, while Dean was staring at him, helplessly waiting.

Without a word being exchanged from either of them.

And anxiety spreading like a poison at an impressive speed throughout Castiel’s body.

Rendering him unable to open his mouth.

Or do anything.

And with one last woeful look, Dean mumbled, “Fine,” and headed out of the door.

And Castiel snapped out of it.

“Dean, wait!”

Dean froze. But didn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry,” said Castiel. “I—I’ll tell you, but I—fuck!”

He dropped on his bed, with his face buried in his hands, and his elbows resting on his knees.

“Cas?”

“Just—I’ll tell you why. But it’s—this is going to be really awkward and that’s why I didn’t want to say anything.”

He heard Dean approaching slowly towards him. “What is it?”

Lifting his head to look at Dean, Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and slid himself to the left to leave room for Dean to sit next to him.

He took a deep breath, and not quite believing he was about to say it, he repeated, “You did nothing wrong. This isn’t about something you did or—the problem, so-to-speak, is with me. I want to make that clear.” He awkwardly moved his hands, and not knowing where to put them, he rested them on his lap, playing with his fingers. “The thing is that I like you.”

Dean frowned. “I like you, too, Cas.”

“No,” said Castiel, now looking straight in front of him, as to not see Dean’s reaction, “I mean, I _like you_ like you.”

Silence.

“Enough to—I know you prefer things to be casual, but I don’t—it’s just been a bit difficult, lately. Seeing you with other people. I thought I would just get over it eventually and that—but the point is that I didn’t. It’s getting worse. I—you’re obviously free to do what you want, but I just thought that by moving out…I don’t know. I mentioned it to my friends because I was a bit discouraged about what to do. They said they’d talk to other people to see if they knew anyone in need of a roommate. I honestly didn’t think I’d get a response that quickly. And I still hadn’t made up my mind about how to handle this. My friends encouraged me to tell you, but I—I knew it would make the whole thing even more awkward.” He swallowed hard. “But now you know.”

Still playing with his fingers, Castiel could feel his racing heart up to his ears, waiting for Dean to say anything.

He didn’t.

But his left hand slowly reached for Castiel’s hands, making him stop picking at them.

And whatever protest Castiel was expecting out of Dean (or mild understanding at best), what came out of his mouth was not what Castiel had expected.

“Do you know how long I’ve wished you’d tell me that?”


	8. Chapter Eight: A Night Discussion

Convinced he had misheard him, Castiel watched Dean with caution for a long minute.

“What do you mean?”

“I like you too, Cas. Like, I—” but Dean bit on his lips, stopping himself.

His mind racing, Castiel, wanting to make sense of it all, said, “But—Dean, you—you don’t have to say this to make me feel better or—”

“I’m not! I mean, I am. Sort of. But not—I’m not saying this just because of what you said. I really do like you. I have for a really long time.” Still holding his hand, he repositioned himself to have a better look at Castiel. “You think what you said is awkward? Cas, I’m pretty sure I’ve liked you since the day we met. And yes, I realize how stupid this sounds, but here we are. I—I almost didn’t accept you being my roommate because of that. I knew I’d fuck it up somehow. That I’d try to—and I really needed to find someone. My previous roommates had been…troublesome, to say the least. You didn’t seem to be the type to just vanish overnight, or a freeloader or—trust me, you were one in a million. But I knew that for this to work I had to keep myself in check and not complicate everything, like I always do. So, I wasn’t sure what to do when you said you liked the place.”

“And what changed your mind? Why didn’t you just pass and tell me no?”

Dean lowered his eyes. “Your girlfriend. Since you were already with someone, long distance or not, I believed it would give me cause enough to back off. And it did. It wasn’t easy and I tried to keep myself scarce whenever she was here. And I, um, occupied myself whenever I felt like I’d slip up. The fact that we barely saw each other during the week really helped, but the weekend... That was the worst. It sucked that I didn’t get to see you more than that, but the less I did, the less likely I’d fuck up and cross a line.” He swallowed hard. “But then, I—I—”

Dean stopped mid-sentence and swallowed hard. He stirred on his seat and let out a deep breath, seemingly bracing himself for what was coming next.

Castiel did not move a muscle, had his eyes glued on him and his heart racing, as he waited for Dean to continue.

“When you said that you had broken up with her though,” said Dean in a soft voice, “I knew I was in trouble. I knew it the moment you said it. I lost the one thing that was keeping me in line. And now, it was worse because I actually knew you. Maybe not that well, but enough to know that my feelings for you were—I liked you. A lot more than I should have to not make this complicated.”

Castiel couldn’t believe it. Dean was telling him everything he wanted to hear, and it wasn’t as a joke or said in a sarcastic manner, either. His tone was sincere.

And it sounded far too good to be true.

Because it was, thought Castiel.

There were a few details that didn’t add up with this narrative.

“But Dean, I—but—wait. The pub—why?” asked Castiel. “If what you say is true, why even suggest it? Why make me kiss a perfect stranger and encourage me to hook up with—why?”

“I was trying to be nice. It hadn’t been that long since you had broken up with Hannah, whom you had been with for a really long time. As far as I knew, you hadn’t been with anyone else since, so I—I just thought…I thought that maybe you weren’t in a hurry to have anything serious. And you, keeping insisting on not having a type and not identifying what you were looking for, was kind of supporting that. And I, um, I was worried that if we—I was worried I’d end up being the rebound or—I don’t know. I thought—it made sense at the time.”

Castiel nodded absently. He understood Dean’s reasoning, even if that wasn’t how Castiel had approached the situation on his end.

But as he was processing the information, another thought occurred to him.

“Dean, do you—what—” He then cleared his throat and added urgently, “Never mind.”

“What? What were you going to say?”

“I—I have a question,” he said softly. “And it—it may be insensitive of me to ask.”

“Ask anything you want.”

Castiel weighed in on his words. “I—what did you mean by ‘You always complicate things?’ I don’t believe you do, by the way, but I—do you mean in the general sense or are you—is this about your last roommate? I know something happened but—” And the moment the words had come out of his mouth, seeing Dean’s worried expression, Castiel regretted having said it. “Don’t answer. It’s—the answer doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay. I told you to ask anything you want. I, um, about a year ago, when Sam decided to move in with Jess, I was left with the task of finding a new roommate. Sam was gonna help and everything, but before he and Jess had even found a place of their own,” he said, after taking a deep breath, “I got a call from an old buddy of mine. Lee. We met after high school and we used to be pretty tight back then. He had had to leave town for a family thing a couple of years after that, but now he was back. And it was like no time had passed at all. We picked up right where we had left off. And since he needed a place to stay…I swear, it felt like the perfect solution had straight up fallen from the sky like magic.”

“And when you say ‘We picked up right where we had left off,’ you mean… were you together?” asked Castiel, after observing Dean a moment.

“Not before. I think it had been there, but we just never did anything about it back then. But now that we were older and...”

“…living together,” added Castiel.

“Yeah. It got serious. And it was great. That’s what I thought, anyway.”

Castiel frowned.

“I’m still not sure if he just did a hundred and eighty turn out of nowhere or I simply misunderstood everything,” continued Dean, “but suddenly, things went south. If there really was something between us, one thing was clear: we weren’t on the same page about it and whatever it was, it was over now. That led to a massive fight and the next morning, he was gone. And as awful as that felt—and it really fucking did—I now had to find another person to live with. And that’s when the _real_ nightmare began. The next six months or so was just me dealing with awful people. None stayed more than a month, because they just left out of the blue or I had to throw them out for owing me money or being—and I mean—I like to think I’m a pretty tolerant person, and I really try to give everyone a chance, but this was…one person stole and sold some of my stuff. Another one didn’t see any issue in allowing three of his friends to squat in the place, free of charge, with no contribution to anything, like food or cleaning. _Rent_. And they kept parking in my parking spot. Another one moved out across the country, with my television and I—I swear it was like I was cursed. No matter how careful and thorough I was in the selection, it just—I felt like an idiot.”

“Dean, you’re not. God, that was—that was just really shitty people. That was on them. Not you.”

“I think it was a bit on me, though.”

“How?” said Castiel, incredulous.

There was a long pause.

“I think that since what happened with Lee throwing me for a loop like that… I kept replaying it in my head, you know? I always thought I had good instincts about people. But this was… It’s not very complicated. Either I totally misjudged who he was before or he drastically changed since the good old days. Either way, I only realized it when it was too late. But not knowing if I was just that gullible or if it was because he had just been that good at hiding it…after all that, it was like…”

“You doubted yourself,” said Castiel, finally understanding.

Dean nodded as he swallowed hard.

“I doubted everyone, and especially myself.”

And after a long minute of silence, once Dean had slid himself even closer to him, practically embracing him, their eyes finally met.

“And that’s why I hesitated with you. I didn’t know how to handle any of this. I really didn’t think you were dishonest. And that’s why messing this up was the last thing I wanted to do.”

Carefully resting his hand on his chest, as he swallowed hard, Castiel said, “And I’m here to tell you that you didn’t. And that none of what happened was your fault. You didn’t deserve that.”

Dean let out a deep sigh of relief.

And they remained still for a little while, deeply wishing to not ruin the moment as they grew highly aware of their surroundings and what could follow.

Castiel eyed Dean’s lips like never before.

Smelled the sweetness of his body wash, still.

But nothing was like the warmth of his skin against his.

“Dean?” breathed Castiel as the urge to lean in was becoming more difficult to resist. “What—what happens, now?”

“I don’t know. I—what do you want to happen?”

“Still have that whiskey to drink?”

Dean snorted. “Sure. But I was hoping we would be past that drink now.”

And easing his hand to the nap of Dean’s neck, Castiel said, “Good. It’s what comes after it that I’m looking forward to anyway.”

And without further ado, Dean leaned in and kiss him. It hadn’t been with strong confidence at first. As though Dean was still worried about transgressing any lines. So, Castiel decided to make it very clear that there was no need for worry.

Gluing himself to him, he deepened the kiss, and letting go of his hand for a moment, he slid it on his back to get a better hold on him.

With his heart beating fast and Dean quivering under his touch, Castiel began slowly to lean Dean on his back.

Unfortunately, the new position, however faint of a change it was, did not seem practical for Dean when Castiel felt him wince.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Dean, determined to not slow down. But as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he flinched once more. “Damn it.”

“It’s your shoulder, isn’t it?” Castiel pulled away from him to give Dean a little more room. “Maybe we should—”

“Cas, no. I swear I’ll be okay. I just need a moment.”

Dean’s eagerness almost made Castiel laugh. “There’s no hurry. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. But…still.”

Yes. _Still_ , thought Castiel.

He licked his lips, took hold of Dean’s right hand and stood up. “Let’s start with putting some ice on it. Just for twenty minutes. Maybe that will help?”

Dean turned his head to look at the bed, hesitating.

“I promise we’ll come back if that’s what you want,” said Castiel.

“Hmm. How about I get the ice and come back here right away?”

Trying not to laugh, Castiel said, “I don’t think you’ll wait the full twenty minutes that way.”

Dean let out a groan, but stood up and followed Castiel into the kitchen. While Castiel retrieved the ice gel pack, Dean waited patiently next to him.

And the moment the ice gel pack touched Dean’s skin, right after Castiel delicately slid it under his shirt, relief spread throughout Dean’s face. Castiel, standing in front of him, rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder in order to hold the gel pack in place.

“I think you needed this.”

“I did. Thank you.”

And Dean leaned in for a quick kiss.

“Twenty minutes, Dean.”

“Don’t think I can wait that long.”

“Maybe I should step back, then, if—”

“No. I—I’ll—fine. I’ll behave. Just, please stay.”

Castiel kissed him at the corner of his mouth, as he returned to his initial position.

“Here, I’ll hold it,” said Dean. With his left arm resting across his chest, he took hold of the gel pack over his shoulder with his right hand, freeing Castiel’s hand.

“You sure?” asked Castiel. “I can do it, it’s no problem.”

“I think it’s better if both my hands are occupied.” He let out a deep breath, scanning Castiel’s face.

“Okay,” said Castiel. He took a mini-step forward and rested his hand on his waist. Dean jolted when Castiel’s cool fingertips brushed his skin.

“Too cold?”

Not moving a muscle, Dean breathed, “No.”

Castiel then caressed Dean’s temple and watched him shut his eyes at the touch.

“How long has it been now?”

Castiel chuckled. “Not twenty minutes.”

His eyes opened again and Dean, remaining still as best he could, looked Castiel straight in the eye.

He was visibly struggling.

“Cas, can you—tell me something. Anything.”

“You need a distraction?”

He nodded, licking his lips.

“That much?” he said in a playful tone.

“Yes. Or I’m dropping the ice and I honestly don’t care what happens.”

“All right. Do you want me to tell you what really happened at the hospital? What you really said to me?”

Dean nodded.

“You told me what had caught your attention was my eyes.”

“I don’t see how I could have made that one up.”

Castiel, smiling shyly, then added, “Want to know what I told you in return?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you wanted me to say something nice about you. _To you_. For the story you were selling to the nurse, of course.”

“I asked you to compliment me?”

“Sort of, yes.”

“And what did you say?”

“That your eyes were beautiful as well.”

Dean beamed at him.

“So, you like that one, huh?” said Castiel.

Frowning, Dean replied, “Um, yes. Why—why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you were unimpressed at my compliment then.”

“What?” said Dean, slightly stirring.

“Relax,” said Castiel calmly, trying to keep him still. “I know you were kidding.”

“Wait, I actually said that?”

“Yes.”

“I—I’m so sorry. I—I can’t believe it.”

“No worries. It just gave me an opportunity to say nice things about your lips and your smile.” And in a gentle manner, he brushed Dean’s bottom lip with his thumb for a brief second, before adding, “And that one you seemed pretty happy with it.”

Dean gave him a languishing look. “Did I say anything else after that?”

Castiel thought for a second, and then, with a smile on his lips, he said, “You called me sweetheart.”

And he kissed Dean tenderly on his lips. He moved his mouth to his upper lip. His cheek. And right under his eye.

And then he heard Dean whisper, “Honeypie.”

Castiel leaned back to look at Dean, wanting to make sure he had heard him correctly.

“You remember?”

“I—it just came to me. Just now.”

Not able to use either of his hands in that moment, Dean eased one of his legs slowly in between Castiel’s legs, pressing himself against him, and leaned in for a kiss.

But he stopped mid-way, flinching.

“I think that’s your sign that you’re still not ready,” said Castiel, amused.

Dean let out a groan.

“Maybe I’ll help. If you promised to stay still.”

Kissing him slowly, he began unbuckling Dean’s belt.

“Is this okay?”

Keeping his breathing under control, Dean nodded.

Without his belt on, Dean’s pants easily fell to the ground. Castiel lowered himself and freed delicately Dean’s ankles from the pants. Once that out of the way, he gave Dean a look, and remaining on his knees, he rested both his hands onto Dean’s thighs.

Dean’s left foot moved in anticipation, which made Castiel smile.

He then shifted his gaze to Dean’s crotch and gently began to palm it, assessing the shape of his already hard cock beneath his underwear.

And given Dean’s semi-controlled breaths, and mini spasms in his legs and hips, Castiel gathered that it was effective enough, and decided to use his tongue instead.

The moment his tongue ran over the cotton, he heard Dean let out a moan. His left knee gave out for a second, before Dean regained control and repositioned himself. Looking at him, Castiel said, “Imagine if I would have done it for real.”

Dean groaned. “Fuck, you’re mean.”

Castiel continued licking Dean’s crotch, dampening the fabric and wrapping his mouth around the head as best he could, as he felt his own cock aching.

And when Dean awkwardly repressed a jolt, he kept his hands firmly on Dean’s hips, and stood up, only to give him a hungry, slippery kiss.

“Do you want me to continue here like this or do you want to go to bed?”

“Bed,” blurted out Dean, without any hesitation as he kissed him firmly. “Please, tell me it’s been twenty minutes.”

Glancing at the microwave clock, Castiel pursed his lips. “Not quite.” He took a small step back so their bodies wouldn’t be pressed against each other, now convinced that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself, either. Breathing deeply, he noticed Dean appeared to be flustered and was standing a little too stiffly.

“Hey,” he said, resting one of his hands on his right shoulder. “You look tense. Did I ruin it?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” he said, half-laughing. “Far from it. I—I’ll just stay still,” he said, taking a deep breath and letting his shoulders drop.

“Dean, we can wait if it’s too much.”

“It’s not. I—I’m okay. I’m just—I really want to go to bed.”

And after whispering a few things into Dean’s ear for the next couple of minutes, Castiel slowly began nudging him out of the kitchen, and all the way to his bedroom.

Happy to be back, Dean was tugging Castiel towards the bed.

“Dean, wait—hold on, a minute. I, um, I think we should be clear about certain things regarding what we’re about to do.”

“I’m usually up for anything. But since you ask, I call bottom.”

“That’s very informative,” said Castiel, grinning. “Thank you. But that’s not what I wanted to know. Well, not really.”

“Oh. What then?”

“How—because of your shoulder—how do you think we should, um, approach this?”

Smirking at him, Dean said, “Are you always this methodic before sex or is this just for my personal benefit?”

“Um, I’m aware discussing it in that fashion beforehand isn’t really—but I don’t want to put you in a position—pun unintended—where you have to hoist yourself, even for a second, or one where you could fall and—”

“Cas, slow down. I think that you’re way overthinking it. I’m not made of glass.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” said Dean, pressing himself closer to him. Understanding that Castiel was still concerned, however, he then added, “Did you have something specific in mind?”

Castiel glanced at the bed for a second. “I’m not sure. But I think lying on your back is your safest bet.”

“Is that so?”

“Dean.”

“Hey, I told you. I’m up for anything. And I certainly have no problem with that suggestion.”

“Okay. I just—you shouldn’t strain yourself. So, you have to promise to tell me if there’s a problem. And don’t—I’ll do everything to not add pressure on your shoulder, but make sure you don’t over use it, either. Okay?”

“I promise to keep my hands, arms and legs inside the vehicle at all time to enjoy the ride,” said Dean in-between giggles.

Castiel snorted. “Someone is feeling chipper.”

“Chipper is not the word I would use.”

And after a quick kiss, Castiel took off his shirt. He then gently helped Dean out of his and let the gel pack fall on the floor. Brushing his fingers on Dean’s cool shoulder, he said, “Better?”

Not able to take his eyes off of him, Dean nodded.

Castiel then pulled on the covers and fixed a few pillows, hoping it would aid Dean’s comfort.

“This is quite the royal treatment that I’m getting,” said Dean, watching him prepare the bed. “You better slow your roll or I’m gonna have a lot of expectations later on.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.”

Once he judged everything was in order, he stepped away from the bed to let Dean carefully lie down.

Once lying on his back, Dean shifted himself slightly to the left to ease his comfort and extended his right arm for Castiel to join him.

Approaching the side of the bed, Castiel took hold of his hand and paused for a second. Even though he was sure Dean wouldn’t have any objection, he didn’t want to simply climb over him. It seemed too forced for his taste that way.

So, Castiel sat next to him at the edge of the bed. Still holding his hand. And staring deeply into his eyes.

As he paid attention to Dean’s reaction, he slowly moved his hand to his collarbone, stroking his fingers over it, only to finally rest his hand on his chest, feeling Dean’s fast heartbeat.

Dean’s stares changed into another kind of look.

Warmth.

Eagerness.

And hunger.

Castiel felt Dean’s fingers reaching for his ribs and sliding down to his waist.

But he stopped as he couldn’t reach further than that.

Castiel leaned in and gave Dean a long lingering kiss.

“Are you comfortable?”

Gazing at him, Dean nodded vehemently. “Please, get in bed already.”

Without hurrying, Castiel pulled down his sweatpants, while still keeping his briefs on, and climbed into bed. Hovering over him, Castiel positioned himself so their crotches were pressed against one another, and kissed Dean’s shoulder as delicately as he could.

“Just tell me if something’s wrong, okay?”

After sucking on his bottom lip, Castiel moved his mouth to Dean’s jaw, and his neck, down to his collarbone. Keeping his movements gentle, he began moving his hips against him, feeling Dean’s erection through the thin layers of their boxers.

When Dean let out a distinct moan, which resonated all the way down to Castiel’s groin, Castiel began pushing himself downwards, while delicately running a hand along Dean’s side, making him quiver.

Feeling his heart racing, Castiel reached the rim of Dean’s underwear. Just like he had done earlier, he licked Dean’s cock over his underwear. He slowly spread Dean’s legs once his tongue reached his balls, and wrapped his mouth around them, sucking through the material.

He felt Dean move underneath him in response.

“Cas.”

“Want these off?”

“Fuck. Yes. Yes, please.”

Dean pushed the rim of his underwear rather eagerly with his right hand, as he slightly moved his hips to help himself in his task.

But in his enthusiasm, Dean forgot himself for a second and momentarily attempted to hoist himself with his left elbow.

Which caused him to suddenly come to a halt, as he let out a sharp cry, before falling on his back again.

“Dean?”

“I’m—I’m okay.”

Castiel slowly repositioned himself on his knees and observed Dean taking a deep breath.

“Take it easy,” Castiel reminded him.

“Cas. This is torture. The things I want to do—I—”

“…will have to wait a bit. And that’s perfectly fine.” He delicately took hold of Dean’s hand and placed it on his chest, just as if he had been wearing a sling. “You need to stay still,” he said gently. “I've got you.”

“But I want—fuck, I can’t just lay here and do nothing. I need to—Cas, what about you?”

And leaning in, he whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry about me. You’re here. I don’t have anything to complain about.”

And at Castiel’s words, Dean shut his eyes, smiling, and rejoiced at the gentle touch of Castiel’s fingers, sliding down his abdomen.


	9. Chapter Nine: Sunday Morning, Again

It was the sun shining on Castiel’s face that woke him up on Sunday morning. Though its warmth was obviously pleasant, its brightness was a mild discomfort to him, even if he kept his eyes closed.

Wishing to enjoy the coziness of his bed, he rolled himself on his other side, pulling the covers to his chin as he let out a deep breath, hoping sleep would return to him.

But then he heard humming coming from the kitchen.

Water running. A chair sliding on the floor. Cupboards doors.

Castiel snapped his eyes open and immediately reached for Dean next to him, only to find an empty spot.

Which could only mean one thing: Dean was cooking breakfast.

Hoisting himself with his elbow, Castiel stared at his closed bedroom door with apprehension.

Yes, _apprehension_.

His heart was suddenly racing as panic was spreading in his chest.

Having Dean cook breakfast for him, in this specific context, had been the scenario Castiel had daydreamed about on so many occasions.

And here it was, at last. Dean was making breakfast for him after spending the night together.

Just like he had witnessed him do so many times before.

For other people.

And until that very moment, it hadn’t occurred to him that this was perhaps a problem.

A detail that he had greatly overlooked.

That, maybe, he knew too much about Dean and his breakfast habits. Whether it was deliberately done or not by Dean, Castiel was aware that the type of eggs would be a form of commentary regarding the night before, and with this in mind, he felt like the gesture was now lost.

Additionally, with the realization that Dean was giving him the same treatment as all his other conquests—namely, his one-night stands—Castiel worried he had misread the situation.

Dean had said that he had been interested for a long time, but as Castiel replayed their conversation from the night before in his mind, he couldn’t remember either of them mentioning anything specific about their expectations beyond that.

That they liked one another? Yes.

Did they want more than what they had before? Yes, again.

But as far as Castiel knew, they hadn’t clearly stated in what way. Castiel had simply assumed.

Biting on his lips, Castiel slid himself off the bed. He hastily put on his pajama pants of the night before, as well as his thick fluffy slippers, finding the floor incredibly cold. He grabbed the first hoodie he could find in his closet and opened the door.

He barely had time to assess that Dean was standing in front of the stove, wearing nothing but a pair of blue boxers—which Castiel was positive were his own—before Dean yelled, while waving a pair of tongs at him, “No! Damn it! No peeking!”

“What?”

Dean had now dashed towards him, purposely standing in front of him, trying desperately to block his view of the kitchen.

“Dean, what—aren’t you cold?” he asked, as he noticed that he wasn’t even wearing a pair of socks.

“Go back to bed!” Dean replied, ignoring his question. “I’m sorry I woke you and I—it was supposed to be a surprise. Don’t look! Please.”

“But why? And you shouldn’t lift anything heavy,” he said, tilting his head to get a glance at the kitchen. But Dean, following his gaze, immediately moved obscuring his view.

Resting his hand on Castiel’s neck, he said, “I promise I didn’t. It was tricky, but I managed. But please, go back to bed?”

Castiel hesitated a moment, but he nodded. “You have to tell me if you need help though.”

“I’ll be okay,” he said, grinning. “God, I can’t believe I woke you. I was sure you wouldn’t hear anything. What was it? A cupboard door or the fan? I put it on low and your door was shut.”

“Um, actually it was you. I heard you humming.”

“I was?” And he started laughing. “I wasn’t even aware I was doing it.” A small _ding!_ was heard, and after a quick look behind him, Dean said, “I have to head back. Just—it’s almost ready. A few more minutes, okay?”

Castiel nodded, took off his slippers and hoodie for Dean to wear (“The floor is so cold!”), and did as Dean wished. He returned to his bedroom, shut the door behind him and climbed back in bed, eager to cover himself with a thick and warm duvet.

And he waited.

Trying to not overthink anything and simply enjoy the moment.

Now that Dean knew that he was awake, he wasn’t as careful with the noise control as he had been before, making it easier for Castiel to discern the sounds. Water running. Timers going off. The door of the fridge slamming.

Plates and utensils being piled up.

And then, nothing. For a good minute. He gathered that Dean was most likely setting up the table, but he also feared that he was perhaps attempting to lift something too heavy for him and was too proud to ask for help. Castiel slid himself at the foot of the bed in the hope of hearing more clearly. But it was still quiet.

And just as he was about to ask Dean if he needed assistance, his bedroom door swung open, and Dean rolled before him what appeared to be a utility cart covered by a cloth.

Amazed, Castiel gaped at him.

“I swear it’s not heavy to push around and it was the only way I could find to spare myself, like, twenty trips back and forth to the kitchen,” he said defensively.

“Where did you find this? I didn’t know we had a food cart.”

“Um, technically, we don’t. This was for my tools. Before I moved here, I had access to a private garage, so all my stuff could be stored there. Considering that the storing place here is in the basement, rolling this outside is kind of annoying, especially in winter. So, I got a box for my tools, and sorta turned this into a nightstand. Until now,” he said, smiling brightly as he sat next to Castiel. “You hungry?” And finally, Dean revealed the breakfast he had prepared for them

Waffles. Potatoes. Cinnamon toast. Bacon. With maple syrup. The real kind, as Dean would say. And a variety of fruits, such as blueberries, apples and peaches.

And no eggs.

Not scrambled. Sunny side up. Or poached.

Not one.

Which rendered Castiel completely speechless.

At his silence, however, Dean said, “Cas? Something wrong?”

Grinning, he shook his head.

“Just, um, noticing there’s no eggs.”

Dean blinked. “Didn’t feel like it this morning.” After watching Castiel for an instant, he asked, “Is that okay? Did you want eggs?”

“No. I—I was just asking because that’s usually what you eat in the morning. _When_ you eat in the morning.”

Dean diverted his gaze briefly, nodding. But a warm smile was slowly forming itself on his lips. “You noticed that, huh?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

“I didn’t want to do this, today. Because it’s not the same.”

“It isn’t?”

Brushing his hand with his thumb, Dean said, with an adoring look, “No. This is—not to get lost in my metaphor, here, but I want more than that for this morning.”

And that was all Castiel had needed to hear.

His chest swelled with warm jitters and he said, “In that case, I’m gladly looking forward to this egg-free breakfast.”

“Good,” said Dean, right before he stole a quick kiss. “And what would you like to start with, sweetheart?”

And beaming, Castiel answered, “The waffles. _Honeypie_.”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! This was an amazing challenge and I can't wait to do this again! Thank you, mods, for your time and patience!
> 
> Please, make sure to check out destiel-love-forever's [art post](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187655)!
> 
> *praises [Danica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danica_Dust/pseuds/Danica_Dust/works) and Landrala who are always helpful and supportive*  
> I hope you all are safe and have an awesome day!  
> I'm also on [tumblr](https://thefandomsinhalor.tumblr.com) by the same user name!


End file.
